Where The Grass Grows

Poems can be Happy too

My mom once said poems can be happy too
Poems are born from pain
I only write when I'm sad
Or perhaps mad
I said
I didn't think she understood art very much
That day I didn't believe her
But today; today I will write a happy poem
For her

Here I am sitting in bed
Wrapped up within my favorite blanket
Surround by books
I have promised to someday read
My heart filling with bliss
And the realization
That love is all around me
And I am cherished as I am

The other day my friend talked to me
She told me about the movies she watched
And her boyfriend; he's meant to be
And she wished me a Merry Christmas
Something about that spoke to me
It wrote poetry to my heart
She thought of me
I mattered

And the very next day
My mom brought me to be with her friends
To spend a night out
On a boat sailing the night sea
Christmas lights filling the air
Even the boy who hates Christmas
Found the heart to believe

Huddled together me and my friend
Watching Love Actually
And finding it within me
To smile; that will someday be me
My friend lay asleep within her boyfriends arms
That too makes me smile
I tell myself that's what I'll search for
That's what I need

But now, in the other room my mom rests
Her eyes shut gently
Head full of dreams
I carefully tip toe to the kitchen
To make myself breakfast

There sitting on the counter was my moms favorite coffee cup
Light blue like the sky
Fits perfectly in the cup holder
In her car
It's been used so much; every day give or take
The ware and tare have become visible
And even when she broke it
She simply replaced it with the same one
That cup has been well loved

I stand as I eat
The house is quiet
I take a look around me
But it's only then as I look that I finally see it
The rainbows
The peace signs
The safety woven within its core
All spread around
This is not a house anymore
This is a home
That has been filled with love

The Christmas tree stands tall
And shines bright
Each ornament we've collected over the years
Hung and collected on each branch
Our memories from everywhere before
And from everywhere here
Some good, some bad
But all along the love has been there
The ornaments all bundled 
Showcasing the love that's been shared

The cat and the dog run between my legs
Both fighting over who gets to love me
And which one loves me more
It's been the fight of the ages
The biggest one of all
Who loves me more?
A fight of love
I've never seen that before

The birds chirp to the morning sun
An ode to the mornings before
And to the love of continuation
In four count and harmony
The quiet beginnings
That people seem to ignore
The love shared between birds
And the new day

The songs they sing bring me back to my grandmas house
Waking up with the sun shining down on me
The window open
A crisp breeze flowing in
It's freezing; chills run up my spine
Birds singing to the sky
The smell of pancakes cooking
And the sound of my grandmas humming
As it filters in through the bedroom door
My best memories belong to her
She gave me something worth living for

The smell of bacon would waft in shortly
Before then I'd be up and running
I'd meet her in the kitchen
She'd say good morning and ask if I was hungry
I always was; I loved grandmas cooking
Those pancakes and bacon
Offered me comfort in a season where there was none
She gave me love
Love is worth living for

My mom once told me that poems can be happy too
Poetry is born from love
I will tell her
Even the sad ones were once born from joy
I will say
I have learned that love is all around me
Most importantly I will stress
Love is worth living for.