Soap Bubbles

Silly, slimy, soapy spheres these flimsy bubbles are fragile and frail.  The air, trapped beneath the thin outer skin, strains to be released.  Life breath is captured in a shiny, slimy round cage.  Don't touch!  They shiver a moment and explode without warning.  Any disturbance bursts mere existence into remnants of something unreal. 

Prisms of air, they float and dance on the wings of the wind oddly reflecting the world back to us with shimmers of iridescent colour.  Rainbows are born on their faces.  These fancy falls of colour curve and shift on the surface, as if craving to come alive.  The world inside a bubble is seemingly perfect.  Beautiful in all things.  

Frequently flimsy, they illuminate their own iridescence and offer a quivering effervescence to those near enough to enjoy.  Vaporous and weightless, these gossamer jewels, daintily glide gloriously.  They're frivolous illusions touched by light and breath and seem to live but for mere moments.  Bubbles have no intentions, there mere existence a surprise chance.  Aspiring to nothing, we long to disappear in them.  Whimsical wayfarers, bubbles wander aimlessly, influenced by the elements; persuaded by flight.

They are poised on the edge of non-existence.  These wispy waifs are not rare, but offer a rare moment of bliss and unwarranted excitement.  Immaterial and nearly intangible these bubbles are not imaginary, but instead hold whispered promises of wishes and prayers.  Their preference is pleasure, providing embellishment to life.  They spark imagination and invite inspiration.  Silent and slight, their delicate nature reveals unsubstantial rewards.