• Greenish-blue skies lit with
    firey red balloons. To be free?
    Maybe, or maybe not. She jumps-
    but her feet will never rise over
    her tall, green shackles.

    Does she wish to fly, to be free?
    Could you fly through heavens
    and over oceans and in canyons, without
    looking back to see if you've made a trail?

    So does she fly with red balloons? Perhaps,
    but would you fly, too? Or would icy fear
    hold your ankles to the dirt, rooted like
    the grass, who once dreamt of flying too?

    To fly-to be free-on red balloons.
    It would, perhaps, be nice. But for now
    she is content with jumping into dreams,
    holding on to red balloons.