Bubble Trouble

When I hear the word trouble,
I think of a bubble.

How it is formed
From the very air
That we breathe.

It comes in all different sizes
And can be found
Almost anywhere you go.

It floats every which way –
Here, there, anywhere.

Sometimes they appear to us
All at once
And we end up making more.

But sooner than we think,
They begin to fall,
They pop and disappear

One right after the other;
Without a trace or a memory.

So always remember
That your simple touch
Will send the bubble on its way.

Copyright © 1988 by Jim Ing