|Pastel bouquet floats overhead: pale balloons,|
Tugging for release, held back by your tight grip
Upon their reins. I see your hand tremble, aching
To set them free. My fingers wrap around yours.
"Wait," I whisper ...
We touch. Lights fade as gibbous moon rises.
Thin dark crescent embraces gravid curve
Of crystal sphere. Then constellations
Gather, melt, and rain their blessings down.
For us ...
Our hands open together: balloons leap forth.
A living myriad, they toss their heads
And whip their tails as up they race into
The infinite womb of the sky. Our sky.
TopicPoetry - Datetag20021231