Happy Things

Bouncing a ball is a happy thing,

like flying a kite on a piece of string,

or watching the clouds without a care,

a breath of fresh air.

And you love me.

“BabyTalk” on your guitar,

Pacific waves on the sandy shore,

Mendelssohn’s Octette on the stereo,

daybreak glow.

And I love you.

4 thoughts on “Happy Things

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