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Bubbles
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...
Wednesday 16th December 2020 10:59 am
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