BUBBLES
I watch her fly her bubbles in the backyard
Light and its lightness captured in spaces diaphanous
I drew a picture once, on a postcard
And held a thousand memories in a rosebud sensuous
She, is my grandchild, child of my son
He of my husband, this son of mine, one
So she lets fly her bubbles, this child of my heart
While i hold on to my memories, and we both revel in delight
BUBBLES © gillena cox 2016
You've heard about the Monday Blues ❧✿❧ well this is Monday WRites ( musing on the definition here of rite, as any customary observance or practice eg the rite of afternoon tea).
Welcome to Monday WRites #44, ❧✿❧ ❧✿❧ whats your mood today ❧✿❧ I invite you to link in with one of your WRites
Sunday Mini-Challenge Flying From Orlando to Picasso
