A little child has a yellow balloon
so happy because it looks like the moon.
He bats it like it’s a small volley ball
back and forth on the big bedroom wall.
It hits an object that’s so very small
and it pops so the child begins to squall.
Tears from his eyes like a big river flowed
from the time he saw and hear it explode.
A little girl’s party being held outside
with gas filled balloons so carefully tied.
She picks her favorite color to hold.
It is part red with some blue and some gold.
She runs and she jumps and she smiles with glee.
It slips from her hand and now it is free.
She cries so hard like she’s lost her last friend
as she watches it so slowly ascend.
Life seems so much like a balloon to me.
It brings so much joy you’ll have to agree.
But joys sometime explode in our faces
and they put us in unwanted places.
Sometimes they escape and cause us much grief
and steal from our lives like a common thief.
But when this sorrow causes us to crack
there’s always another one in that sack.
Share
Print
Save
Follow
Next time I see a ballooon make its escape I will be thinking of this poem.
Georg
Edwin
Newfie Hugs, rose