Mabh Savage
Words and the world passing by; how it sings to me; how I clamour back.
Lonely Bubble
The boy pulls my arm
Look at this bubble!
He cries, and sighs
In delight.
It sits, unharmed, on the rainy tarmac
Wet and round and glossy
A perfect hemisphere
A ghostly fried egg imitator
A final resting place
With no predicted pop.
It flew, for sure, it flew with friends
Around the stage we haunt
And shop fronts
Lights
Hotdog candy floss popcorn dream
They flew together
Then one by one
Pop, pop, pop
Yet this one hung on
Though its time to fly
Had passed.
Lonely bubble lies
On the greasy tarmac
We watched for a while,
Puzzled and oddly sorrowful
Until something else delightful
Caught my baby’s eye.
