Bubbles

Our lives are like bubbles blown on a warm day
Just before sunset by children at play
They float to the ground reflecting the light
Of the colorful brushstrokes just before night
Green, yellow, orange, and purple, and blue
Made of a substance as fragile as dew
The breeze catches hold and swirls them away
Out of the reach of children at play
On up they go, on into the sun
Dancing with joy at the freedom they've won
There seems no limit to where they must stop
Til suddenly the bubble simply goes POP!