balloons

I am but a balloon, yoked to a platoon
                  of fourscore more,
                           so I sit quiet, ignored.

I have wondered what it feels like
            to have something to lose,
                                                      staying close to the ground for a reason I choose.
                             For now I am tied down, my job: erase frowns (that's what they tell me).

                                                                                                            So I sway, day-by-day,
                                                                     because some divine finds me worthwhile
                                                    my "ultimate purpose" is but to bring a smile..
Yet I wish for something a little more,
   perhaps there's more magic left in store for me.
            Hoping for something beyond what I can be,
                                                                                and then maybe they'll see!
                                            That I'm more than this helium taxidermy.

Yet I am but a balloon, yoked to a platoon
                         of fourscore more,
                               and as I despair, I implore

                            "give me a purpose! a task that's difficult! something worth it!"

                                                                          but before I know, from down below, I am thrust upon a tear-filled child...
                                                   and I realize-

what a joy it is, to make a smile.