I am a red balloon whose string
slipped from fingers of a small child,
floating just inches out of reach.
The child cries and attempts to get me back
but soon has been brought a new balloon.
Yellow and better,
tied around a wrist now that
a lesson’s learned.
No one tries to get me back
while I gradually move into the clouds.
I watch the world shrink and continue
while I become smaller
and smaller.
I am a dot in the distance
that you might miss if you blink.
Soon I will run out of helium,
or perhaps get tangled in a tree or wires.
A sharp edge could be my end,
but maybe I will make it
all the way to the sun.