I told him:
Making me happy is not easy
Since my happiness hides
Between the smallest details
In the tones of my favorite song from the next car window
Under the buttons of my sky-blue dress
In how berries taste after 18 hours of work
In strangers smiles and between the lines of my beloved ones letters
Under the golden rays and on the iced cotton balls
In things that can’t be sold or purchased, but made and felt.