I saw a hot air balloon flying over my house:
Most of the time, it was as quiet as a mouse,
But, every so often, its burners suddenly roared,
And higher, up into the sky, it suddenly soared.
My excitement, I found hard to keep at bay,
As, a hot air balloon, you don't see every day.
A passenger balloon floating through the air,
For me, is so special, as the sight is so rare.
The sight of the balloon, filled me with delight,
And I stood watching it, until it flew out of sight.
My eyes were stuck to the balloon, just like glue,
As it floated across a sky of cornflower blue.
I wonder what it's like to float through the sky,
Watching the world down below gliding on by.
I've always wanted to ride in a hot air balloon:
I hope I will one day, and I hope that it's soon.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
though i live here in albuquerque, dubbed the hot air balloon capital of the world, i too have yet to ride in one. but i'd like to. for another take on them, see my poem time lapse of hot-air balloon mass ascension. -gk