top of page

The Broken String

Photo by Mark Bluemle

When he placed the string into my small hand

I made sure to wrap it twice around my wrist

Bunny ears tightly crossed and looped around each other

linked us like strands of DNA

I watched as the other kids ran around playing

Their balloons fluttering through the air behind them

It was then I realized my balloon was pulling on its string

The string that connected us,

the string I clutched onto so tightly my knuckles whitened,

was tearing.

I was warned to not let go

But what if it wanted to leave?

What then?

My arms had grown tired by the time it snapped

Tilting my head back

I watched the balloon glide away without a second glance

Leaving me with the threads of a string

You once taught me how to tie.

bottom of page