The Convict Balloon

On a balloon so grand, with convicts so vile,

To a fate most dire, they did not beguile.

A crash on an isle, so desolate and bare,

With only despair, and punishment to share.

The winds did howl, and the currents did shift,

As the balloon did crash, with no chance to lift.

The flame did flicker, and the basket did shake,

Leaving the convicts, in a difficult state.

They gazed upon the shore, with eyes full of dread,

As the hopelessness of their situation, they came to grasp.

For the isle was barren, with naught to be had,

And their fate seemed sealed, in a life so sad.

The convicts did ponder, their sins and their plight,

And vowed to survive, till the end of their sight.

For hope was a flame, that never would die,

And the will to survive, would help them defy.

So they built shelters, and found food to eat,

And worked together, to ensure they were beat.

The hardships they faced, they did all withstand,

And in time they thrived, on that desert of sand.

And when they were rescued, so many years later,

They were not the same, as the convicts of yore.

For they had been changed, by the trials they bore,

And the will to survive, that they had in store.