VC (06/03/1984 / )

Glass Ice Bubbles

Like frail little dew drops,
they cover the ground.
Their colors swirl and mix.
Almost like a living rainbow,
floating away from her.

They float in the zephyr,
and fall with the dead leaves of fall.
They add a touch of life to all who witness,
as they float aimlessly to you.

Glass ice bubbles.

Their round shape, seems so perfect.
As they swim through the air.
Their surfaces smooth and swirling.

She blew a glass ice bubble,
from the frost of an October morning,
and it dropoped, like a rock from the sky,
and landed gracefully onto the ground.

Where it turned into a glass butterfly.
And circled her body thrice.
She reached skyward to catch it,
extending her fingers toward the winde,
her glass ice butterfly -
floated like the bubbles.

It had a rainbow surface,
with swirling colors,
it was perfect -
it was beautiful.
It was gone.

So she tried again.
She blew another glass ice bubble,
and watched it float in front of her.

She reached out and touched it.
She wanted to hold it.
But it blew away, just as her palm came near.

So she asked him to blow a glass ice bubble.
His body was warm in the color wind of prewinter.
She held onto his warmth,
and kissed his cheek.
He blew a tiny glass ice bubble,
as frail as she felt in his arms.

And she reached out again to catch it.
It landed on her warm palm.

His glass ice bubble turned into a glass puddle.
And soaked in her hand.
And he took her into his arm,
And held her close,
To protect her from the cold.
They kissed a long, innocent kiss.

As the floated away,
in a glass ice bubble.

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