Their Mylar Floating

The festivities stirred with laughs.
With loathing curbed, full-throated joy broke free.
Occasional fits of music levitated in the sun.

Blues whistled.
Reds waved.
And whites hummed.

While hues on hand made such noise,
There remained the leaders.
They sat and pride had a hand on their backs.

With chins up, they handled the ways of the world
Easily, no, simply.
What they did was make it look easy.
Instead of settling for simplicity, they chose to live
Simply.

With faces held high they found the clouds and stars were chatting
And they also peered at their Mylar floating.

Their Mylar with the gold or white or red or a smiley face
Up there like Icarus but at least it's known his wings melted.

Where did their Mylar go?
Who found their Mylar?

The days ahead are sure.
They'll remain true.
They're looking for something pure.
Even if they never get back their Mylar.