It's a thing of beauty
Like what Keats said
A memory that brightens
The darkest hour.
It lurks in our hearts
Quietly.. unnoticed
Hiding away from the monsters
That sucks it out.
Happiness comes to us
in many a way
Reminiscent photographs,
The letters and cards
sent from mother to child, between lovers, husband to wife,
Quoting a memory or an event.
It's not what the letter holds
In the blue ink that has been
Drawn all about the pages
But the very sweet truth that
They've written to us, brings
Happiness of large amounts.
For a writer, it's her works being
Read by the folks
A teacher, her pupils being bright as the sun. Ruler is when peace descends upon his kingdom.
Happiness is not just for someone,
But for all. That's why its essence
Is loved by all.
And I hope happiness
is all that we feel from now.
YOU ARE READING
string of words
PoetryPoems come to me like Words falling from the sky creating an ache in my chest Forcing my hand to write it.
