Friendship’s blue balloon, inspired by Sylvia Plath

The  problem with the poetry of Sylvia Plath is that she can take a perfectly good day and throw a big black blanket over your sun.  Her ability to change mood bears testimony to her genius, but because she is so adept, I go long, long gaps without reading her work.   Tonight I stumbled upon a web page audio of her works.  Look what she did to my perfectly normal, happy day.  Oh well, at least she got me writing.


Was friendship


more, than air

dressed pretty

A globe which matched

my party frock

Tethered by hand


grimy, cake stained string

In a moment

Careless instant

Hands forgot to hold

immeasurable treasure


it looks down, and

from that vantage

I grow smaller

melting into a field of green

distance obliterating me

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