Bubble Life
by Rachel Hoyt
When you're inside looking out,
They don't hear you when you shout.
Opaque walls trap every sound,
From soaking into the ground.
Thoughts bounce around gaining strength,
Hoping to fly to great lengths.
When it pops and all falls down,
Spills into life's cracks and frowns,
Sounds begin to tap on ears,
Thoughts wig out and jump off piers,
The bubble ceases to be,
But that which it'd trapped lives to roam free.
Copyright © 2013 Rachel Hoyt. All rights reserved.
I read of the "first female Massai warrior"
and wondered what the Massai gals thought of her.
Love the poem. Great rhyme and imagery.
ReplyDeleteThanks Jeff! I grew up in a bubble, so I know what I'm talking about. :)
DeleteGreat title Rachel, and compelling poem to go with it. She lost me at the things she carried with her--red nail polish--really? Guess it's kinda like war paint, but my suspension of disbelief just got suspended...I love how you find these interesting stories :-) PS I was pretty much a bubble person too...
ReplyDeleteShe lost me at the nail polish and pearl earrings as well. :P
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