Soap bubbles,
your reception’s favor,
hiding inside
a white vial
with two white doves on its lid;
after your vows,
after a puff or two,
born out of round wire and liquid soap,
they jump to life
in perfect orbs
to float, waltz, and boogie
in singles, doubles, or clusters,
celebrating
with wonder, whimsy, and joy.
Orbiting around
in rainbow colors
and air’s equilibrium,
iridescent in stretchy skins,
weightlessly they drift
toward where lovers dance.
Then,
in a gentle second’s unpredictability,
they pop into thin air
in haste,
for bliss
may last
only so long.
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