The balloon man as he is called affably
passes through our lane without fail
with a whistle and a noise in a trail
that bring every child out possibly
The man halts by the tree
fills the balloons with air
puts them out in display with care
an array of colours promoting glee
The excited children flock to his shop wayside
touch each balloon with their hands tender
want to have not one but,
many a splendour
their face reflects enchantment besides
The seller uses his skill
creates animals of the balloons
inserts a rattle into the fill
that croaks and barks and croons
The children thrilled even more
run home to get few cents
beg their mothers to spare a little more
walk with heads down cause they received a dent.
The balloon man is a human after all
pushes two more liberally into their hands
sets a tone of pleasure and contentment
a good salesman he is with no brand.
The next day he comes along with a usual gusto
children throng around the man with amity
they trust his generosity
a charm he employs every day in the tempo
Meenas Poems 