Reaching For The Sky

I stare at the sky,
Holding the hand of my dad,
Watching our rocket fly up, up up,
Into the open blueness.
It soars, free as a bird,
Powerful as a jet.
It reaches for the stars,
Transforming into a tiny black speck,
Like a pebble, stuck in a hurricane,
Or a tiny thread woven into a blanket.
The parachute releases,
Making it drift through the air.
The wind carries it like a slide,
Or a ride at the carnival.
It looks peaceful,
And willing to go anywhere,
Wherever the chilly air takes it.
It blows around, 
Cooperative, and willing.
It eventually falls to the ground,
Landing softly in the grass,
Its adventure over,
But there will be more to come.
It will once again soar,
Reaching even higher,
And go even further.