Soaking suds are never duds
When soaking seems succinct.
I've never met a budless sud
From the bath tub to the sink.
The buds of suds are soaking now
And they all just bubble up,
Until they reach the light-lit ceil,
Or land, or even drop.
The sudsy buds, they do not fear
For their buds are never far.
Whether here or there, they always know,
Their budsy sud's a star.
A team, it seems, in water warm
Synchronized swimming is the game
And maybe tomorrow the sudsy buds
Will simply do the same.
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