The Pink Balloon
The Pink Balloon
A pink balloon abandoned post fest
Now sails upon the summer breeze’s crest
A wayward dot of hue against the azure sky
With freedom unbridled and free to fly
Lighter than light it succumbs to the flow
Above the patchwork fields and green below
And over streets where pointing people see
This dancing sphere of blush with endless glee
While onwards and upwards on alluring route
This rubbery bubble whirls and twirls and flouts
Tantalising and fleeing from an earthly confine
Upon its inflated skin are sunny rays of shine
Its course below now changed to woody land
And in the distance the ocean’s cerulean band
Where lands afar await this rosy wilful ball
But the gas within depletes and it begins to fall
Instead of grand new ventures, it yields to a tree
Amid spiky branches, it’s trapped, no longer free
With final poke by one barbed bough upon the top
Pierces its fragile skin with one resounding pop
Copyright © Rose Johnson | Year Posted 2019
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