Chimes

Suds

Krystina Harcourt
Soapy bubbles      d  r  i  f  t
                                           across
                                                     the
                                                                 hardwood
                                                                                       floor,
they clump together as
they travel,
slowly,
d
o
w
n
the river of murky water
   

a lone sponge


a grungy brownish blue
sits                                              in the middle,
stopping the bubble from flowing.

My bucket has been knocked over.