Maybe A Red Balloon

I  may have been a balloon,

in a past life.

Perhaps a red one; not an apple kind of red, not a red that is glossy or glamorous. 

A soft red; gentle to the touch and light on your fingertips. 

A rose Red.

The kind of red that rolls across rose petals.

That is the Red.

I'd be weightless and free; carrying nothing but the presence of kind thoughts, 

wieghing nothing more than the light and warmth of the sun. 

I'd lift towards the clouds and you'd never know how the story ended.