A Poem In Rhyme
Soap and water floats through the air,
Inside, holding who knows what fare.
Could it be fairies, invisible to the eye,
Or maybe a spirit, on its way, trying to fly.
Clear, glassy surfaces
Shimmer and shine.
A distorted reflection,
Let’s hope it’s not mine!
In all sizes these spheres are made.
Though some go pop and won’t make the grade.
Others float up so very high,
Right up there, way up in the sky.
And not one of these…