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Bubbles
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Bubbles are so light and airy.
Floating on the breeze.
As a child I'd watch them move.
Pretty as you please.
None was ever the same you see,
The colors never matched.
So as the bubbles came toward me.
My hands would reach to catch.
My moms soap was the best.
More bubbles it would make.
Whenever she would take a rest.
Her soap we'd surely take.
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