Archive - Thursday, 11 April 2002


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Balloons at Whitby

IT was bracing windy weather,

Three balloons I tied together,

They were loose in the back of the car.

I greeted my son and the door was ajar.

New from his sick bed, "balloons" he cried,

Smiling we leaned and reached inside,

Balloons escaped up and away

Into the blue of a seaside day

Way above the terraced houses,

Yellow and pink like big girls' blouses

How gladsome was their uwpard flight,

Lolloping gently out of sight.

Contented we felt our spirits rise,

Uplifted to those airy skies.

Submitted by Mary Newton

Norton

Updated: 11:33 Thursday, April 11, 2002