Dancing bubbles with strings attached.
Surfaces colored with dots and stars.
Sometimes plain and sometimes multy
Sometimes round, at times arty.
Gone are the days when these bore a place
In every kid’s life, those restless chase.
Now a balloon seller is seldom seen
The children today are never so keen
To buy these balloons, vivid and magical
Filled with colors and dreams so real.
Video-games and electronic toys
Today replaced these little joys.
But how on earth one can attain
The joy of running in the autumn rain
And leaping to the balloon seller
To hold the string in childish flair.
Tiny tots lay bereft of lost old treasures-
And the value of the bygone pleasures.
Balloons and teddies lay out of place
In this age of malice and pretense
Innocence itself has got lost
Amongst the rush of modernization.
PS. Penned this poem on March 10,08
PPS. This poem derives inspiration from a lonely balloon seller walking all the way in a posh colony with a faint hope that he might get a child clinging to him for a balloon but sadly no body turned up and what he could vision only was a huge scape of empty road ahead of him as if he ws non existent.
*Pic: From an e-mail.