Like O's
---------

Blow little bubbles with your mouth,
like O's, just so, and watch them drift
up skyward, neither north nor south,
not east nor west. The wind will sift

those circles into air and soap.
Stiff rules still rattle dreams to rust.
These airborn circles, thin as hope,
may shatter to forgotten dust.


Karen Tellefsen
kat2@mindspring.com

Next poem, Pieces of Rain .

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