A Stolen Wish on a Red Balloon

I must confess, old friend
Years ago,
I stole your wish and wrote it on a red balloon

There was that moment over drinks
where you did the thing that you do-
with a faraway look and Cassandra on your tongue,
seeming to have all the answers

We talked about futures, about dreams,
about what we wanted for our lives

My laundry list, absolutely in earnest,
both superficial and full

Yours was one, only one-
"May I always have a home wherever I go"

It rang golden clear inside me as the truth often does
as the pages of my wishes became hollow

So, I took yours without asking
Stole from our conversation
the handful of letters that made it magic

Wrote on a red balloon in big black marker,
to ensure the Universe would never mistake my handwriting
Cast it into the sky without comprehending what I'd set forth

Years later,
quite beyond what I knew to expect,
it has come true exponentially-
like one red balloon birthed another every year
until
my greatest burden now is how much I love
and am loved in return

I am inundated with family and bedrooms and backyards
Hearths where my stockings hang, just in case
Places to run when I can't hear my voice
Soft beds to land when its all too much
Children to hold and spoil and celebrate
Lousy with homes, as the richest dame with diamonds

The wisest balloon ever set free
The most perfect burden ever dreamt

Vaguely guilty for using your wish,
I almost apologize now-
as if such things are finite in a limited world

But your laughter echoes towards me from far away
Infectious and inviting,
bouncing up towards the sky