Human Balloons

It is far too late to be up,

But I am.

I don't know where my mind is.

I'm afraid she is lost somewhere in the dark,

And won't come home.

I have left the light on for her,

And I am waiting.

Perhaps she will come home wiser,

And painted with new experiences,

Or perhaps she will only be sore and tired,

And droop to the ground like a deflated balloon.

When I was small --

Smaller --

Much smaller --

I thought teenagers were the pinnacle of wisdom

And put-togetherness.

Then twenties.

Surely their hearts and minds

Never run off in opposite directions.

Now I know

It isn't thirty or forty or one hundred;

We are all acting;

Children are easily fooled.

A successful day is a day

Where you get out of bed,

Put on your shoes,

Go to work,

And end up back in your bed at night

Without killing yourself

Or anyone else.

Is that really growing up,

Or is it deflating?