Happiness- in poetry, in heart-
Are both so radical?
Must dark words lodge themselves
Forever, painfully so- or-
Does my mind trip me up?
Is joy light as a feather?
Or careless dreaming
Of a fairyland that we claim?
This is a plea.
We can fill vast meadows with flowers
Or alone drink black coffee &
Talk serious & write "loneliness"-
Is this- this- happiness?