You are red.
Satisfyingly full,
So plump and round.
Yet effortlessly,
Elegantly,
Ephemerally,
You dance with the winds
Though bound by my grasp.
You are joy.
Like a beacon
Signaling to all:
"Here! Here is happiness!"
Bouncing and bobbing,
Celebration cries out;
And the children,
Laughing, squealing,
upon their first sight.
So social a creature;
You delight,
In the company of your own.
Like a pack of animals,
Whatever the hue,
Be it green or blue,
Tangling together
Through and through,
In intimate play,
To part and separate you
Seems selfishly cruel.
Slender is the string
That binds you to me.
My captive,
You are loyal to none.
A flighty creature,
Willful, ready to fly off,
At first opportunity,
With no thought for me.
Heartless,
To abandon me,
And for what?
For uncertainty.
Always you take risks,
In search of freedom.
Light as air
Floating, drifting,
Floating, drifting,
Up and upwards still,
Away, way far
And farther still.
Just a speck now,
Meaningless.
You might as well
Be a crow,
Or a puff of smoke.
I imagine you still,
Flittering,
From place to place,
Here, now there,
At the slightest whim.
Whimsically flouting
Your newly found power,
Capriciously toying
With the limitlessness sky.
Unbounded,
And so innocently
Unaware.
There.
Two, ten, twenty, or more?
Trees. Branches. Reaching for you.
They watch and wait,
As if with tentacles,
To entangle, to trap.
Or those wires.
Carrying light,
Carrying voices,
So eager to snare you
So ready to possess you.
And if not imprisoned?
Slowly suffocating,
Leaking your last breath?
Violently violated,
Pierced, penetrated,
The final, awful
Explosion!
As you are ripped apart,
Torn from your very self.
My mind aches.
Perhaps 'tis best,
This freedom of yours.
This one chance
To live fully.
To sail,
Among puffy
cotton pink clouds.
cotton pink clouds.
And yet you remain
A slave, if only of
The temperamental winds,
Who, blowing fiercely
Ever pushing you
Towards your fate,
Even as you celebrate
Your own perfect nature.
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