Hey Bubbles


Hey Bubbles the way Light dances on your skin
When you shimmy through an open window into the blue
Make a wish, hold a breath, imagine what you want to be
Will you ever find that perfect form again?
Bubbles when you grow up rounder than the world at large
So strange to feel no doubt or fear of heights, reflect
Seas, the continents spinning like pictures bright and thin
Mountains range like pyramids singing symbols as you spin
The way light dances in the night sweeping shivers on your skin,
Hey Bubbles.







Poetry by Chaucer Whethers
Read 591 times
Written on 2013-03-28 at 15:32

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Commentally Ill
i told you to never call me bubbles in public! what's wrong with you? as for finding the perfect form, are you calling me fat??

i've said it before and i'll say it again: i pretend every poem i read is about me, except for the angry ones, those are all for my boss at work ;)

c.i.
2013-03-29