Jagged clouds etched the sky
As we departed on the SS Fluorine.
"Fluorine?" I recall asking warily
To a captain who smiled mysteriously.

Her gangplank was golden in the sun,
Her sails were woven with dreams;
Seamed and sewn with memories
Of color and light and wonder.

The ground below forbade travel,
Issuing forth epicenters and floods
Of tourism and deprivation and
Casting away Heaven's creativity.

Only once did I hesitate on this blimp,
This glorified hot air balloon.
The cabin held more utilities
Than could ever be considered useful.

The decks were painted with glory,
The rails bordering excitement
Instead of caging personality.
I sighed softly as I gazed out.

I'm bound for some city in the sky.
I could only wonder, momentarily,
If the rugged clouds were reflective,
A tell-tale of the future.

The sun never set that day,
And neither did the light in my mind.