Catching Bubbles

When I think of you

I think of a child catching soapy bubbles on a tiny fingertip
Pop. Pop. Pop. Upon landing, they pop

When I think of you
I think of released balloons drifting out of sight
attached to string and hopeful hopes
growing smaller, and smaller
then gone

When I think of you
I think of everything that could be, but isn’t
Everything that should be, but can’t
Everything that might be, if only

Dear future
when I think of you
I close my eyes tight
and pray that God catches your delicate bubble
on His great fingertip