Life goes on without you
and within you:
Round pink pebbles
Polished by the constant flow of
Bubbles that burst like dreams
Just above the stream.
All I am is the movement in between:
The pebbles and the burst-bubble dreams.
This entry was posted on February 6, 2015 by igorgoldkind. It was filed under bubbles, new poetry, poetry and was tagged with bubbles, New Poetry, poetry.
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