Seen over the net,
The bubble people walk ashore
and bounce upon the water,
their limbs afloat in eerie tumbles
jump without a splatter.
The wind shall drift their bubbles deep
to rocks and piles and edges,
it shall mysterious blow a drill
oblivious to their pledges.
Their bubbles seem to go forever
borne on the big clock,
they come to join and come apart
like sterlings on a flock.
A day that seems to never come
their bubbles shall collide,
and panic strucken they will find
themselves out of hide.
With water to the neck and bones
a swimmer shall come by,
a bubbleless perennial pal
to share a half a smile.