BALLOONS INTO THE SKY

BALLOONS INTO THE SKY
(FOR PETER CIMINI)

The day of his funeral was yellow and fine.
The sun blazed forth like a miracle, water into wine.

We had gathered there to say goodbye
to a man that I had known
for a quick, keen sense of humor
and a gift for answering phones.

He had passed from the world at 48,
a swift, sudden shock, a cruel twist of fate.

And we all left our cars in the springtime breeze
and filed into the chapel, lost in memories.


His life had been the circus,
and his Ringling Brothers family came,
to share their stories of the man,
his life an everlasting flame.

They stood behind the podium
and commenced to gently share,
his tender love for friends and beasts,
the myriad ways he cared.

Two soloists sang for his widow
and the mourners in their Sunday clothes
and in the chapel draped with flowers,
the Holy Spirit echoed.

Emotions ran high and tears flowed undaunted
and the anecdotes stirred laughter,
the way he would have wanted.

And we all felt more alive that day,
buoyed by the tributes and the soaring tunes,
and the parking lot was drenched with the color
of helium balloons.

Releasing them to the firmament,
we bade our friend goodbye
and watched his spirit soaring free,
against a picture perfect sky.

-BRUCE POTTS
COPYRIGHT 2008
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED