/ yellow balloon /

you wish to know your landing,
so you want answers
to turn at exactly what degree.

but I waltz and flow
into your sand of time,
and whirl them into fumes
to pump you free.

I do not have the road map,
and the destination is worthless to trail.

please, just float and shine on high,
and adorn the places
you don’t know
are there to be.

/ ink on paper /