I’ll tell you the trouble with bubbles:
They burst like a punctured balloon
As they fall on a sharp piece of rubble,
Or they fail on their flight to the moon.
It’s useless to try to collect them.
They’re not like a coin or a stamp.
For the hand that you raise to protect them
You’ll soon find is feeling quite damp.
Yet bubbles, you’d better believe it,
Can actually be lots of fun.
You can catch them and snatch them
And quickly despatch them
Until you have burst every one.
You can chase them all over your garden.
You can watch them drift over a wall.
Though you run like a hare,
As they’re mostly just air,
When you search you’ll find nothing at all!
- Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #2