There stood an old balloon seller outside the park;
Almost all her balloons were sold by the time it was dark;
Each colourful one sold out like a hot cake,
Along with the balloon, for children, there was joy to take.
The reds and the blues were the first to go;
The yellow and other colourful ones did then follow;
Children snatched their strings of smiles from her hands,
While parents paid to see their innocence dance.
A black balloon was the only one that remained in the end;
Came a poor boy to buy but with curiosity, questioned,
If she had another colour left or was this the only one,
To the tired old lady who stood all day in the sun.
She told him you can buy this one as it is same as the others;
He refused to take the one rejected by his rich sisters and brothers;
There must be something wrong with it, he told the tired old soul;
Maybe, they all thought it was ugly as it was black as coal.
The seller smiled and told the poor child,
All colours are tamed but black will always remain wild;
It has the same power and pressure of air,
That is enclosed inside the colourful ones for which you crave and care.
Its string swings the same way;
The black balloon too, likes to sway,
In the open air like its friends of colour;
Our understanding of the essence of black is quite blur.
Black is the sky so that we can see the stars shine;
If the background is black, the other colours look divine;
Black is the begining and the end too;
Be it the colour of clothes or skin,
it has the same energy as others do.
Black is beautiful but you need a third eye to see;
Your mind needs to understand that everything is equal and free;
Like a dark skinned princess with big beautiful eyes,
Long dark hair, hourglass figure and a smile to mesmerize.
Black is the board on which, with chalks you write
Or make colourful chalk drawings which stand out in the light;
The thoughts, the power and the purity inside is what is truly important;
Every flower is pretty in many ways but has a different quality or enchanting scent.
Vizzmaya is a wanderer in the land of stories and an explorer in the sea of poetry. She is 10 years old but her life’s experiences make her writing age faster but gracefully. She is awaiting for the release of not just her first book but all her 7 e-books via Amazon by the end of November, titled- Vizzmaya’s wonderland (parts 1 to 7) which contain poems, stories, write-ups and jingles. She hopes they add positive energy to the lives of everyone who reads them and is passed on to others for their betterment.
Vizzmaya Jalal, a Class 5 student of St. Francis ICSE school, Mumbai, is a poetess, a writer, an aromatherapist, a herbalist, a classical singer, a classical dancer, a keyboard player, a basketball and chess player and a linguist who speaks 9 languages. She is an iron girl who sees her bedridden mother medically suffer like hell each day and yet inspires and motivates her to fly higher with the help of my maternal grandfather’s positive energy and take others along with her beyond the clouds of earthly problems and pain to a peaceful place where spirituality and science live together in harmony; thus staying true to her name, Vizzmaya which means wonderment.