If bubbles could be butterflies,
I’d blow until I filled the skies
and watch as through the air they rise,
to land upon a star.
And if a fluffy cloud they passed,
they’d float on by it very fast
and leave it looking quite aghast
to see them flutter by.
But if a rainstorm should begin,
they’d fly back home to try again
to tell me just how far they’d been
and now they’ve come back home.
For bubbles they will always be
so happy to be flying free
to float around and tickle me,
these tiny rainbow orbs.
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