In The Park...

Today in the park,
I noticed with a spark.
A four-year-old running around.
In squeaky leather her feet bound.

Clasped to her chest is a frivolous balloon.
The time my watch announced was three past noon.
In a moment of revelation my mind crooned,
The truth about fate, chance and tune.

She clutched the thing as if it were her heart,
The children around her were less smart.
Bang! Their balloons went one by one.
Most blamed other kid’s, flies and the sun.

They chased the young one to snatch the catch.
Her tiny feet and light balloon, were no match,
It lifted off, then crashed and thrashed.
The balloon stayed, it did not blast.

So fragile, yet so resilient.
Misfortune is a treacherous bend.
Fate and chance are like the balloon,
A marvel the hands of time prune

by Nikesh Murali

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