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The Balloon
When I was 8 or 9,
I let a helium balloon fly away.
I watched hopelessly as it drifted,
Into the vast blue day.
It cost 3 dollars and 50 cents
And I cried.
Not because the balloon was gone,
But because what my mother bought it with was.
I didn’t forgive myself for a while,
I knew how hard she worked for the pay.
But now I know that money is little.
Lost in a lunch you have to eat.
Money is for things children never pay for
Like parking tickets and friends you meet.

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