Bubbles

by Paula Jane Harrison

Bubbles

Some bubbles rise up to the sky

Some bubbles don't I don't know why

Easily popped by just one touch

Easily missed by way to much

Silent and round as we make it

Being forgotten bit by bit

Weaker and weaker as it grows

That is what happens, I suppose

Of all the ones that we condemn

We don't remember all of them

Even when we continue to grow

We still wonder where they go

Jordan Wood