The Baby and the Bubble

There is the bubble, and I am the baby

If I catch the bubble

Is a pure maybe

I chase it to the swings; but it flies over

I chase it all the way passed my dog Rover

I chase it up the hill to the sand

I almost get it in my hand!

And then pop!, oh brother.

Oh! My sister just blew another!

By Jessi B.

(or me)