The ochre coloured balloon of sadness
Landed fully on his tummy
It rolled into the valley of love
With the air filled canary yellow gossamer
For a short while it was out of his hands
No longer his decision
He waited (easily)
For happenstance to have her way
Her response was to hand the baton back
In respite; the lost weekend was over
In a matter of weeks and days
Not the months or years he had hoped for
The calculations, the meditations
They had then to recommence
Mindful of what might be effected
And what they may be affected by
Time to read yet another wellbeing book
