Joy is a little thing,
A warm luxury in the chill of winter's winds,
One sparkling treasure in the face of somber spring rains.
Happiness is a man,
Roaming the midnight city streets,
Tossing gold glitter all over the way as he skips along.
Pleasure, a soft blanket on your bed,
A perfectly placed pillow to rest your head,
A pencil that never runs out of pencil lead.
Everything is diamond when relief rears its head,
Assuring as the autumn breeze,
Pushing around stray sticks and leaves.
Feb 27, 2025
Feb 27, 2025 at 6:52 AM UTC
Joy is a little thing,
A warm luxury in the chill of winter's winds,
One sparkling treasure in the face of somber spring rains.
Happiness is a man,
Roaming the midnight city streets,
Tossing gold glitter all over the way as he skips along.
Pleasure, a soft blanket on your bed,
A perfectly placed pillow to rest your head,
A pencil that never runs out of pencil lead.
Everything is diamond when relief rears its head,
Assuring as the autumn breeze,
Pushing around stray sticks and leaves.
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