You ran and the balloons
swirled
around you.
Pink and blue and yellow,
dying soft deaths on the grass,
brushing your bare ankles.
There were hundreds of them,
maybe twenty,
pink blue yellow,
floating,
towards you.
You danced,
turned,
looked at me through the sun,
and, laughing, pierced my heart.
Oliver Roberts
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/balloons-6/
