Balloon

I never owned a bike. When a boy, I dreamed of having a bike, but no one had the $35 to buy one. Recently, when I was walking in Target alongside a long row of shiny new bikes, I was reminded of this poem by Jill Spargur:

I always wanted a red balloon;
It only cost a dime,
But Ma said it was risky;
They broke so quickly,
And besides she didn't have time,
And even if she did, she didn't
Think they were worth a dime.
We lived on a farm, and I only went
To one circus and a fair,
And all the balloons I ever saw -- were there.
There were yellow ones and blue ones--
But the kind I liked best -- Were red, and I don't see why
She couldn't have stopped and said
That maybe I could have one--
But she didn't---I supposes that now
You can buy them anywhere,
And that they still sell red ones
At circuses and fairs;
I got a little money saved; I got a lot of time;
I got no one to tell me how
And where to spend my dime;
Plenty of balloons--but somehow
There's something died inside of me
And I don't want one . . . Now.