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Balloons.

The wind sweeps it away.
Up into the trees.
Far above the clouds;
The balloon soars.

The balloon climbs to the sky.
Escaping to freedom.
From the child’s hand.

Higher and higher;
The balloon flies.
Peace and happiness await.

The child cries;
“Balloon, come back to me!”
But it cannot come down.

“Here I come, happiness.”
Thinks the balloon
As it climbs higher to the sky.

It gets colder and colder.
As the balloon soars higher.
And soon it… pops!

Downs it comes in pieces.
So alone.
It’s gone.





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