Reflections from Middle Age

I wish I was a balloon

Red with trailing tie,

Drifting in a summer’s breeze

In a clear blue sky.

I wish I could just let go

And float, free and clear

Watch the earth far below.

Empty, free from fear.

I wish I could create a space

That was quiet and still

Where I could sit a while without the pain

Caused by death’s near chill

But I am not a balloon, not free to fly

I am grounded here with you

Watching while you suffer and die

And there is nothing I can do.