You hold a bright orb of color
lighter than the air,
bouncing along above you on the end of a ribbon.
And its company is wonderful,
but there's that constant
tug on the line.
It yearns to float up
beyond your reach.
And you want to let it go,
although you will miss it dearly,
for freedom is all it wants.
You hold that freedom
dangling in your hand.
You let the ribbon slide up
out of your clenched palm.
And the moment it drifts up,
just out of your reach,
regret hits you like
a big yellow cheese bus.
It grows smaller and smaller
you suddenly feel responsible
for all of the trees
it nearly misses
and the gradually thinning atmosphere
pulling its insides
slowly out.
Freedom becomes the impending
pop!
You wonder if you should have
just held on...
