Pink Balloons

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I watched a man out on the sands
Selling pink balloons,
The strings all tugging in the wind;
The band was playing tunes.
As I stood there on the bank
The wind picked up its play,
And to his consternation
His balloons all blew away.

I watched him chasing after them,
But he was old and fat.
The rubber balls blew out to sea...
I thought that that was that!
But, while the band continued on
He plunged into the wave,
Quite unconcerned that he had stepped
Into a watery grave.

Yet I was quite amazed at his
Ability to swim;
Taking off my shoes and socks
To dive in after him.
By the time I reached the shore
The man was far at sea.
As swimmer he could far out-class
An amateur like me!

His arms like windmills thrashed the waves,
The foam behind him spread;
Following his pink balloons,
Further out he sped.
As he disappeared from sight
I watched him from the dunes
Quite certain he would fail to ever
Capture his balloons.

In half an hour he'd not appeared;
I wondered if I ought to
Go and find the lifeguards who could
Save him from the water.
Just as I'd decided that I'd
Really have to go
He swam into my vision with
His pink balloons in tow.

Relieved to know that in the sea
The man had not expired,
I saw as he came closer that
He hadn't even tired.
As he stepped out of the surf
He didn't blink an eye,
Just continued selling pink balloons
To children passing by.

Last Summer I went back and, yes,
That man was there again,
Still offering his pink balloons as
The band played its refrain.
I'll always wonder how a man
As old and fat as he
Could have retrieved those pink balloons
From so far out at sea.

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