(Influenced by Helen Valentina’s poem Solitude.)
Drifting orb
Cut from its tether
Cast into the winds of fate
Fearful of the trees
That reach and stretch
Their razor tips a constant threat
Some holding the corpses
Of those that flew too low
An upward gust
Rising to a safer height
And dragged with alarming speed
Houses fade away beneath its string
Replaced by a sea of cushioned branches
Their leaves promising to caress
Hiding a slow death in their touch
This lonely orb survives and flies
Soon landing in a hidden land
Where its brethren float and dance
Safe from deadly points
In the Vally of Lost Balloons
Legends of Windemere 
Love this, and not because you were inspired by my poem – but because it’s so beautiful in its own right, because it so eloquently paints the portrait, and also because you chose a photo with a group of balloons, and the concept they go to a valley where they can be together…it makes it feel less achingly lonely so I shall comfort myself the next time I see a lone balloon flying away that it is going to its brethen in the valley…!! 🙂
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Thanks. I always wondered where lost balloons go if they get enough height.
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Well I like your theory! I find it profoundly comforting! 🙂
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