Happy. Happy. Happiness
won't. It can't. It does not hop
out hazel-eyed to greet me
from there, behind a Hornbeam.
Happy. Happy. Happiest,
it's not, to hide. It will not
hide its slippery, crimson
cheeks, beneath a skipping stone.
Happy. Happy. Happy thoughts
it can't keep. Sunlight yellow
grins, it gives them. They are not
bundled in petunia buds.
But, I'll chase it round. I will
take it and toss it. I will
pluck it and sniff it, and not
finding it, I'll still have it.
1 comment:
Well, if you can manage this, you are a better man than I am Gunga Din ( except I'm a chick )
Happy New Year Gorgeous!
Signed
Pellegrina
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