You hurled a wobbly red balloon my way
and laughed when it exploded on my gut.
My hurl at you: so blue and full of say.
 

Each life must have its tousle in the hay,
or else it ends with an unwieldy "but."
You hurled a wobbly red balloon my way.
 

Stop taking it to heart! I hear them bray.
Learn to leap lighter with each bruise and cut.
My hurl at you, so blue and full of say,
 

still had some wit, I counter, since my tray
of words spun swift and bright out of the rut.
You hurled a wobbly red balloon; my way
 

was to throw verse. Was that a lackaday,
a waste of rhyme? Or juggernaut,
my hurl at you so blue and full of say?
 

Yet either way, an end comes to our play.
You win; I exit left and no more strut
(you hurled a wobbly red balloon my way)
my hurl at you, so blue and full of say.