The Balloon Seller- A poem about letting go.

The sheer joy on her face as she pointed and squealed.
The balloon-seller smiled, a yellow oval he peeled.

Removed from the bunch, sunshiny air bladder.
From the point of eye-contact, he knew that he had her.

Mum dug in her pockets, gold coins left her hands.
She passed over the fruit of her daughter's demands.

On curled ribbon, jet black, the balloon sideways bobbled.
With each flick of the wrist, it jiggled and wobbled.

They stopped for bananas at the grocers fruit stand.
She reached out for an apple, string flew from her hand.
The little girl shrieked. (She was only seven.)
As the joy-giving sac carried upwards to heaven.

They gazed amongst tears, a view smudged and smeared.
As distance grew greater, the less it appeared.
Mum tried to console her, all efforts in vain.
So off they did traipse, see the 'loon-seller again.

c. Monique Wiles 14.07.17

What are those things we insist we must hold onto, even to our detriment?
We let them go and it may feel good for a time and yet we go searching for them again. Are they really worth what we think they are or simply an illusion of happiness?.
After all, a balloon is delightful and so much fun for a child but in reality it's a deflated rubber sac filled with stale, used air.
We are creatures of habit, but not all we hold onto is good for us.Sometimes it is the letting go which brings us the more lasting joy and releases newness into our lives.

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