The Magic Bubble-Gun
The boy sat with his Grandpa
By a fountain in the sun,
Creating iridescent orbs
With his magic Bubble-Gun.
I watched him pull the trigger
As he set the bubbles free,
Intriguing him, his Grandpa,
And captivating me.
I watched the beaming older man,
I watched the little boy,
Then recognized that they had bought
A little slice of joy!
My heart and lips were unconstrained,
Embarrassing but true:
I locked eyes with the Grandpa
And said, "I want one, too!"
But the Grandpa spoke no English,
And my efforts were in vain;
Just where one purchased Bubble-Guns
I could not ascertain.
But I was on a mission now
To find where joy was sold!
I asked a store proprietor
And very soon was told
To find the shop on St. George Street,
Down by the water wheel;
I walked those ancient streets again
With purpose and with zeal!
I walked into the little shop,
I bought a bit of mirth!
And there are those who understand
Exactly what that's worth!
And now, perhaps, you'll see me, too,
Sitting in the sun,
Creating streams of colored orbs
With MY magic Bubble-Gun!
Linda Moser Winebrenner
April 10, 2012
(Written after our trip to St. Augustine ~ and, yes, my granddaughter, Jessi, understood!)
"Never have I enjoyed youth
so thoroughly
as I have in my old age."
George Santayana