Poetry: Happiness

The thing is that happiness doesn’t grow on trees

It slips up beside you and trickles down like honeyed passionfruit in a summery breeze

And it’s watermelon sugar on sticky hands and lips

The sound of birds and bees buzzing about and softly rolling hips

Always and forever moments standing still in time

Sighs and a velvety touch will make you fall into the slipstream of rhythm and rhyme

Long may it be said that love comes for us all, in the end

But it’s happiness that comes first, and long may I be rend

In two, me and you flowing like a river all the way through

The willow leaves that tickle us as we float our way to Avalon true

The thing is that happiness doesn’t grow on trees

But it grows and grows all the same, and wither or not we please

Sunshine and sweet warm breezes, it’s such a wonderful change of pace.

MarieAthena

One Comment Add yours

  1. Rafia Bilkis says:

    Your writings are dreamy and so sensual… ❤ this sentence…'and long may I be rend in two..' ❤ ❤

    Like

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