Dear sky, today I write with a smile,
as I watch the red balloon rise,
its ribbon slipping through fingers,
like whispers of promises, unfulfilled.
Below, a faded store sign watches,
letters worn by time and sun,
its silence louder than words.

The balloon dances with the breeze,
a carefree wanderer in the blue,
while children gaze in wonder,
their laughter echoes in the air.
I imagine it speaking, softly,
between the clouds, finding freedom,
in the space between breaths.

Yet, there's a sweetness in this parting,
a tear held back by hope,
as if knowing that release brings peace.
The balloon, a messenger of dreams,
carries wishes beyond our reach,
while the sun dips low, painting
the sky with hues of quiet longing.

And so, dear sky, I end this note,
with a heart both empty and full.
The balloon, now a dot in the vastness,
teaches us the grace of letting go.
In its ascent, we find solace,
in silence, a gentle reminder,
that even the quiet can be a comfort.