White water bubbles, On the waters edge, Did they happen by chance, Or possibly instead… As quickly imagined, Were they something else, too. Perhaps white bubbles in designs or wishes he knew. ( next stanza). A man with a brush. He painted them blue. He said that the sky induced dreams to come true. In between parts were touches of gold and set between these his wishes to hold. A thousand swept messages. Those watery sealed blooms. Were noticed as reflections one summer afternoon. S. Kamber