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Quest for Happy

I read my mother poetry from a book
And I said Which one next
And she said Something happy
And I looked through the
1,000
Almost 2
Pages of poetry
But all the happy poems
Had run away
And they had left all the lame
The crippled
The poems too depressed to leave
And the poems too infatuated
With the idea of love
That they had not run away, too
From the monster of sadness
And I closed the book
And left my mother
To write a happy poem.





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