Parade

Parade

By Jonathan Bennett

I missed the balloon passing overhead,
Mistaking its shadow and shivering;
Because, I was pushing through the thick crowd
In my hope of finding a better view.


Horns and beats and brass buttons glittering
Moved past with clowns and floats before, behind.
Marching, dancing, waving to catch my eye
That was focused—too intent—on the end.


Now everyone's gone home. The brooms whisper,
Brushing up the remains of the parade
That culminated in my heart's desire.
Yet, now, curbside I await another.