Paint me another red balloon

please, Mr Banksy

paint it with a longer string and tie it

around my wrist

so that it won’t escape

from my little fingers and float

into the sky

to become a tiny dot that disappears forever;

and please Mr Banksy

don’t paint the wind, let it be still

so that my hair doesn’t cover my eyes

and my dress doesn’t flap around my knees

and if the string becomes undone

my new balloon won’t blow away.