The Freest Feeling
In transit, a seagull squaws above,
My eyes rise to the occasion.
But it is what the seagull squaws about,
That catches my ball of attention,
The freest feeling floating along.
A helium balloon wiggles up
Through a crisp sky of azure,
A forest of clouds burst from the horizon,
Topped off with a drizzle of golden sun honey.
Everyone around wonders why,
I stare blankly at the sky,
Their thoughts direct to trouble,
The badness rains from our atmosphere,
I recognize the freest feeling,
As the balloon climbs so high,
Nothing can stop its silver back,
From twinkling with the stars.
A little further in the distance,
A second balloon tosses and
Flips around like a fish,
Just as free and just as beautiful.
What a strange coincidence,
But the freest feeling never travels alone.