a journal for eastern and western
Karin Anderson, AU
Why is it when I
have bubble baths
I’m amazingly and magically well?
Why do the sudsy-soap bubbles light paths
that can abracadabra me into their spell?
Perhaps it’s because I’m a castle’s moat
and bubbles foam and froth under blue sky?
The castle’s walls tell tales of ships that gloat
pirate’s old-gold filled chests masking dark eyes.
Or is it because I windsurf the waves
and bubbles spume and loom high in the sea?
I can cruise myself through zest’s crests of foam
and bravely plunge into waves breathlessly.
Could it be because I’m a smooth spacecraft
and bubbles bob on fluffed clouds way up high?
I spin, reel and fly through time, space and laugh
like a bubble-burst-rainbow firefly.
I know, its because I’m merely a child
but I’ll grow up~~ but not out of bubbles.
Colours enchant me and guess what? ~I‘m wild
when Dad calls me his bubble of trouble!
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