Little Globe
Grow me a planet
I want a moon
Followed by a Saturn
Real ones but small
To fit inside my pocket
Got my own worlds
In my palm

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they were innocent at school, bubbles

you got the tin and wand and blew

wet globules flew in the playground

we cheered at the squadrons we grew

they hit you in the face but harmless

we ran madly trailing clouds of glory

each bubble with its personal rainbow

to embroider some memory or story

trouble was that strong soapy smell

a reminder of the pain of bath nigh...

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