The Red Balloon

As I lightly shuffle my feet,
Jostle my way through the marketplace.
Cries of vendors penetrate the dust,
whilst a bead of sweat trickles down my face.

A glistening red grasps my glance.
A child's fantasy, I espy.
Playfully tugging at its fastened twine,
A round, red balloon yearning to fly.

A smile plays softly on my lips.
My heart flutters as I watch it dance.
Blind to the treasure of toys around,
I feel it beckon to hold it in my arms.

Propelled by a desire naive,
I'm drawn to it like a moth to a light.
Stalled by an image of a young woman with a balloon,
Reality soon mists my craving out of sight.

Standing on the threshold of youth,
Armed to build a new life ahead.
Here I am, melted by just a balloon,
Wishing I could give it all up instead.

Perhaps if I embraced it just once,
To play with it an entire day.
Would I feel that buoyancy,
so resonant of a balloon's gait?

Being childlike didn't make me a child again.
I could play on the swing and fly my kite.
Dance while it rained on the streets,
Yet, all it bestowed was a moment's respite.

Though the moment has almost flown away,
I'm still enveloped in a lingering cheer.
Aroused from a languid monotony,
A twinkle in my eye does often appear. :)

Akshata Rao