Memories
encased in amber
bob up and down
like so many soap bubbles
dispersing in gentle breeze
I am running
trying to catch them
on my fingers
in my palms
long to examine them closely
before tucking them away
for safe keeping
they are fragile
my bones sharp
fingers now razor blades
they shatter one by one
drop to waiting ground
leaving nothing
but iridescent sheen
on cool morning grass
© 2017 Christine Elizabeth Ray – All rights Reserved
That’s some vivid imagination!
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It has been a trying day
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You did great!
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🙂
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I love the bubbles too
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❤
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I love this, because your words are beautiful, but also because my autistic son loves loves loves bubbles, and loves watching them formed and blown by one of those machines.
So ironically, while your poem is about how memories are like fragile bubbles, my memory of my son playing with bubbles will never burst. 🙂
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Thank you for sharing the lovely mental image
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🙂
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Great Pic!😍
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Thank you
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