There's something very spatial
about bubbles pale and playful
empty planets on the run
rise to meet the deadly sun
kiss the breeze,
dive by trees
with a tickle,
cause a sneeze
squeaky clean a bubble is
whether soapy or gin fizz
a brief visit,
sharp bend
then suddenly,
the end.
One sweet splash of rainbow run,
a lick and split of lively fun
so nearly gone before begun, that
I have never tired of one.
