le ballon rouge

(this poem was inspired by one of my favorite childhood movies -- le ballon rouge written and directed by albert lamorisse in 1956 -- to date, it is the only short film to win the academy award for best original screenplay... though there are very few words, at all, in the film)

 

i remember it like it was yesterday...

 

rainy day schedule

on a december afternoon

twenty soggy third graders

file into the room

 

of mr. ackerman's class

at alexander rose elementary school

take their seats beneath the gaze of lincoln

washington and a poster of the golden rule

 

the buzzing of chatter subsides

as the lights on the ceiling go down

soon the flicker of the projector

is the only glow and sound

 

to be heard as the dial counts

down four, three, two, one

and a most memorable movie

of my childhood has begun

 

i remember damp cobblestone streets

and leather shoes with buckles

a boy with tufts of sandy brown hair

and little hands with white knuckles

 

that clung to a line of string

the better part of an afternoon

attached to the most beautiful

big red balloon

 

as the boy and his friend

meandered through the quaint streets of france

balloon flirted and floated

performing the most wonderful dance

 

it peaked around corners and

peered through paned windows

floated down alleys

between clay roofed chateaux

 

but balloon and the boy

had to pay heed

to a throng of dark-hearted children

filled with envy and greed

 

rather than celebrate

the affection this sentient being shown

their envy would destroy

in a failed attempt to make balloon their own

 

throwing rocks and pebbles

many flew past and missed like a dart

but it only took the strike of one

and the air began to leave balloon's heart

 

balloon's last breath was slow

quiet and steady without sound

all that remained was a line of string

and a lifeless puddle of red on the ground

 

the boy choked back his tears

so hard to swallow

balloon was leaving him now

where he was going the boy could not follow

 

the little boy turned

and slowly walked away

his lips no longer curved in a smile

his spirits no longer light and gay

 

reluctantly he wandered back

alone through the streets of town

his chin pressed tight to his chest

following cracks in the pavement on the ground

 

kicking at loose stones

anything to pass the time

trying not to think about

the friend he left behind

 

turning around a corner

he reached an expanse of field and sky

standing in utter amazement

he could not believe his eyes

 

in the middle of the field was a colony of balloons

hovering globes nearly every size and color

each one just like all the rest

yet not one quite like another

 

the boy ran straight into the sea of colorful faces

where their strings met and entwined

let laughter fill his cheeks once more

and searched for his fingers to find

 

a place for his hands to nestle

to grab hold as tight as could be

allowing them to carry him above the rooftops

as far as the eye could see

 

i remember it like it was yesterday...

 

years have and will pass

though i'll not forget any time soon

the tale of a little boy, a message of hope

and a big red balloon

 

~ janean christine mariani