In her dreams was a land nightly born anew,
There were flowers of ruby and emerald, glittering with dew,
Endless rolling hills of green,
Untouchable, unseen.
In her dreams there was no human race,
No storms or terror to muddle up the place,
Just peacefulness and glory,
A perfect children's story.
And always on the horizon was a perfect oval,
A giant hot air balloon, airborne and mobile,
Patched with patterns of blue stripes and dots of red,
Under it hung a beautiful basket held by mere thread.
She tried to catch it every night,
But it always, always eluded her sight,
She couldn't admire the scenery,
Not the flowers, not the peace or greenery.
There was something about that hot air balloon,
It made her small, innocent heart wonder and swoon,
But she'd never get a ride in that carriage,
Her and happiness was not a realistic marriage.
For even in her dreams, she wanted something more,
Something more than what for her was in store,
Life couldn't give her what she wanted,
So that hot air balloon, her it taunted and taunted.
-Luna Elvenfleur xx
