blows idly in the grass
and is plucked by a fairy
as she wanders past.
She examines its blue-green leaves,
and its bubble petals,
then gently blows on the flower
urging the bubbles to unsettle.
Her airy breath is a song,
filled with magic and wonder
and it makes the bubbles fly free;
the flower pulls asunder.
Each bubble holds a fragment
of what the fairy has seen;
castles in the clouds,
and unicorns under moonbeams.
There are ships and magic flowers,
feathers and flying cats,
each in it's own swirling bubble,
each destined to never come back.
Some bubbles wander and linger,
some into the wind are hurled,
but all will soon be floating
into the mortal world.
The fairy keeps gently blowing,
singing her entrancing song,
and guides each tiny bubble
as it floats along.
For each bubble holds part of her soul,
fashioned through love and care,
and she wishes each bubble well
as it disappears into the air.
