In A Bubble Poem by Christopher P. P. White

Her warm body radiates
As my cold hands
Rest upon her strapless shoulders.
The bra she wore
Fell to the floor
Like a solitary feather
Falling from a lavish bird.
The balcony overlooks
A twinkling skyline and her eyes
Hold all of the flashing lights
Together.
She stands there without a fabric
In sight,
Only the materials of creation—
Her skin and bone,
Naked and alive in the cool breeze.
This is what dreams are made of,
I think,
As I hold this hourglass
Against my trembling body,
We remain united for hours
And the rising sun keeps its
Gaze upon the city below,
Whilst we keep our gaze upon
Each other.
The beads of sweat that
Rest elegantly on her forehead
Glisten as we welcome
In the morning,
The last morning we'll ever see each other.
In a bubble we floated
Through the mundane madness
Of a lacklustre life.