Tiny children trotting
with polka dot balloons
red yellow purple green and blue
past the Ferris wheel
and the candy apples
with tickets in hands
excited eyes wide and wondering
what may await when finally
the moment arrives.
they are paying for a safe surprise.
they are praying for imperfect lives.
these children and the joy they form
for the simplest of pleasure.
the world a giant jack in the box
and they turn the crank so merrily.
I learn from them
who I am, before my age
cast upon me the illusion
that I was ever more
or less then a child like them.
May I never let my balloon
float sadly away
to be burned by the sun
or soaked by a cloud.