There is a certain beauty
In this bowl of soup
Steam floating in the air
Warning me not to be too eager
Lest my lips suffer
And my tongue scald
Depriving me of its sweetness
There is wisdom there
Giving me pause
Allowing the words to dance in the air
Unfolding this way and that
Like a child chasing bubbles
I bob and weave
Hoping to capture even one
Without shattering the illusion of its
Existence
Then there is you
The softness in your lips
The warmth in your hug
The sureness in your eyes
Are you my bubble
Or am I yours
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