Secret Ink

In a hot air balloon, we will fly!
No fear, no thoughts that we might die.
We love, we hope, we try to soar,
higher and higher from the floor.

With all things below becoming small,
until our eyes can’t make out what’s what at all.
We lean over the edge to touch a cloud
“they’re made of tears!” we cry aloud.

We exchange looks and hope that this wont be,
the last flight between you and me.
“This time won’t be the last” is what she’ll say,
“We will see eachother again some other day.”

The sky’s the limit, to the limit we’ll fly:
until our lungs collapse and with smiles we’ll die.

^{©2007 secret ink. all rights reserved.}