Bubbles

''When I was young, there used to be one thing that really fascinated me. I always found them entertaining as they floated in the air, gracefully dancing about among it's siblings as it was carried upon the wind before a child took their small hand and reached for them, only to have the delicate orb pop, the soapy particles then dissolving.''

''Bubbles, they were called. A fun name for something fun, of course. How I enjoyed chasing the delicate iridescent orbs, rainbows of every color imaginable bouncing off the thin surface when the sun's rays hit it just right. ''

I was always curious on what their purpose was, and why they so elegantly graced the air before disappearing with the slightest touch.

''I had always wanted to hold a bubble. But alas, all attempts were in vain as I once again destroyed yet another one of those beautiful orbs. ''

''Often I would try to explain my fascination with bubbles to others, but they never understood. They were always in a hurry, a rush, never taking the time to appreciate and enjoy the beautiful things in life, like flowers, butterflies, the angelic chirp of the bird on a bright summer morning. ''

The sweet smell of roses, the dance of an Autumn leaf blown across the ground, the gorgeous snow crystals floating down on a lovely Winter's night, the moonlight giving a beautiful glow to the snow as the flakes made their way to the ground and melted.

''But I always particularly enjoyed the most delicate of things. ''

Like bubbles.