Bubble Song Poem by Dawn Wood

While I am here, she is my best friend.
She likes to blow bubbles
her breath is mine,
I am never empty.

If she thinks green, I drift towards the wind in the trees.
If she thinks blue, I am alive with the ocean.
If she thinks many colours at once
I soar over a meadow spread before me

my skin is swirling oil on water.
While I am alive, she is in me and I have a name
that sustains the portion she has given me.
I go where she blows, just a path.

Before I drifted, I was my drifting.
Does a bubble cast a shadow?
Death does not prop me up.
When I come to rest, all her best times are rolled into one.

I float with the flock
I am a house of her
I will dwell forever
in her forever breath.