I didn’t know how happiness was sprouting in my mind,
but I scented it like a field of zinnia
The otherworldly medal of hope.
The root of happiness is narrow, the offspring beautiful like a sunrise.
Happiness is hiding everywhere.
Can you perceive it?
Hints of faint orchestra music
sound through my feelings,
hopeful.
Happiness moves tenderly onward
like soft spoken words from your parents asking how you are doing.
What does happiness remark about?
Does it talk about the morning?
Will it ask about the weather?
Happiness’ disposition is kind like my grandmother.
Happiness is not a faint colorless pink.
Happiness touches you with a feather like hope.
If happiness shows up where you are,
what will transpire?

Happiness is conquering your heart.
Can you receive it?