Bubbles of white fall
on a weary winters day
cold circles drift dreamily
without a visible smile
laughing in the chilly wind
they fall as if peace were resting in their circular bubbly space
a white world , all they apparently know
a place , a space of dove like dreams
or at least this is what we may see , as they fall
white bubbly tenderness
falling from a comforting collection of clouds
they lack the colours of a rainbow
maybe they are sighing without the sun
they are missing the blue river
and refreshing green of the grass
golden hue of the sand stirring by the sun
somehow they are falling bubbles of peace
but see how cold they are
and how they are missing the rainbows and colours of an orange fire
they bring mountains of peace before our eyes
but maybe they cry
maybe they sigh
they give to us bubbles of beauty
but they are missing the fun rainbows
and warm tender comfort of that fire
are they really happy
when they are falling from the clouds
or are they happier wrapped in cotton wool
comforted by warming hands of softness
the falling isn’t a choice
but if they had a choice would they
stay comforted by cotton wool hands
keeping them that inch warmer
or would they fall dreamily and give an amazing white peace to the world
to stay in comfort and warmth
or to fall away
and risk a chill that they may not wish to feel
knowing they are helping the world , somehow
snow , bubbles of it
stay in cotton hands or fall