High up in the sky, color streaks
through the air a wicker basket flies
one so happy they could not die
a day not nearly bleak.
Below sits the cold ground
trembling, no longer bound.
Floating gracefully, watching mountains
grassy green hills and snow capped tops
fire streaming into air, pops,
wind dripping like water in a fountain.
Warmth, hot from the sun's rays
never to come down another day.
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