Simple string slips through, complicated fingertips. 
Wishes, desires tied into the shape of, a single red balloon.
Thumbing a ride on a Sunday breeze, 
Surfing its way over tops of rooted trees. 

Winged aerialists delicately balanced on mirrored water, 
The leavers dance, front row for a final show.

Doing what I can never find the courage to do, 
Slip away, uncharted destination. 
Through ragged linen flowing in the sky, 
Past the saffron fireball, 
Cautiously placed beyond the horizon.