The balloon you won you lost
Let go, your prize rose up,
Freed, it floated at first, then
Fluttered and flung itself
Into the breeze; there was
Joy in its dance, its playful
Ascent into the momentary
Heaven of the morning sky,
Even as it climbed smaller
Going away, quickly changing
From itself close up, to a ball,
A bubble, a perfect red jewel,
To that tiny red dot, the period
At the end of this sentence
We watched, we read describing
Its final small, willful triumph.

-- J. K. Durick