In a newly developed suburb, bursting with homes,
Is a dreamy hot air balloon
Filled to the brim with blank tomes
Waiting, waiting… For the stars to align with the blue moon.

The delay is long, arduous, so the balloon becomes occupied,
It makes friends as the weeds and plants grow,
Some of the tomes have verses, so the balloon is mollified,
Still waiting, waiting… For the stars and blue moon to glow.

The plants have grown vines, strong and budding,
Radiant, colorful in all their flowerly glory.
But the hot air balloon bids farewell, for the sky is stunning,
The blue moon and stars are out, so it’s time to fill the tomes
With new stories.

But the hot air balloon finds it hard to leave,
For the vines and friends are holding on
Should it stay with the empty tomes and grieve,
Or leave, to fill the pages with stories and songs?