That fire, they said, was red as red as red
as red as a fox, your lips, a cherry;
that fire, they said spread and spread and spread,
faster than a cheetah or a nasty rumour;

Now we're up on the edge

and over, on the mountain

with mountains beyond. Behind us,

            in the dark

We're floating into the blue,
Me and my blue balloon.
Over the rooftops of the town,
The brown fields and the trees
And the Downs – we're floating,