The Magic of Bubbles

The Magic of Bubbles

We were on our way to see the bubble man, 
world renown so they say.
A wonderful stringing of circles and smoke, 
all shapes and sizes -  to wrap yourself inside,
waiting to pop, a soapsy, sudsy spray. 

We went early, knowing the line would be long - a slow steady flow.
Nearing, I saw a homeless man on the other side,
 rows of flowing traffic swift between us. 
I hoped my little ones wouldn’t see.
We look for magic and feed the hungry.
“Look Mommy, a hungry man.”
“Yes love, but he’s far away and our show’s about to start.”
Chiffon streamers blow, rippling light
“He’s waiting for us Mommy.”
I explained we’d miss the show and have to wait.  
And so we did, for my kind smiling son.
Over, under, around and through the ribbon of road,
to feed the hungry man on the other side  - waiting – just for us.
He nodded and thanked us kindly.  

Twisting and turning our way back  - seconds, minutes popping 
exploding spittle in the air.  
Blowing row upon row of cars, opalescent blue, green, yellow, pink.  
Children excited, bobbing and bouncing.

We approached the lady, “All sold out 
except these last three, just for you.”  
She had a kind smile and a rosy ribbon in her hair.
We walked into the tent excited.
My son chosen from all those there to stand on stage with the bubble man,
world renown so they say,
and walk within his enchanted bubbles 
to hold his magic wand 
and blow. 

We drove home the same way, looking for our homeless man, 
with our magic wand to share, so he could be the bubble man too.
 
Published: MCI
Copyright © | Year Posted 2014

Poem

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