Red Balloons

She was born in April, she loves the Spring.
She sits on the porch and sips her lemonade,
As she peers contently, at the so called "king".
She starts to blow up his balloons, as her father start a new crusade.

Her body ascends, light as a feather she sails higher and higher.
She becomes frightened, feeling the moisture of her dream,
She floats upwards more, her situation becoming more dire.
She hears some singing, as another balloon rises, she begins to scream:

"You got the words wrong!"
He can barely hear her, he replies.
Soon enough, they know where they both belong.
They reach, and she looks deeply into his eyes.

They have an adventure, rough at the start, their story unfolds,
They met through fate, and from that it ends with a vision of gold.

Author's Note

This is a poem I wrote for my friend's story. I would add her story, but I believe she'd be upset with me, so f u.