Little Bubbles. Perch like crystal songbirds Upon my trembling finger Like snow they never linger And pop Ever so softly. Quiet down and listen You might hear them go Like those clear crystal balls That on christmas trees a-glisten And on my shirt-sleeve rest Then vanish With the tiniest splash Withh the wave of soapy wands I hope. I implore. Fly away.Far away. Don't end up on the floor.
Reason for writing:
None given
Birth sign: Not entered
You need to log in to edit this poem if it is yours.
View more poems by xene.