In January I looked under the couch.
That’s usually where things end upWhen I lose them or can’t find them
But it wasn’t anywhere under there.
In February I looked in the fridge.
Food has given me such comfortOver the long and many years,
But comfort is not happiness.
In March I looked around the garden.
Though the flowers were pretty indeedAnd the trees were stunningly magnificent
It wasn’t the feeling I was searching for.
In April I looked in the city.
With it’s high rise buildings andStark, modern landscape
It was nowhere to be found.
In May I looked in the country.
The rolling hills inspired meWhile the fields nourished my soul
But still that happy feeling eluded me.
In June I looked to the heavens.
The sparkling stars shone downAnd the moon glowed brightly
Yet it was not there at all.
In July I looked to the sky.
The suns warm rays filled me upWith good will to all mankind
Yet, not quite the happiness I sought.
In August I looked to the snow.
It’s intricate beauty mesmerisingAnd it’s touch so refreshing
But not that which I longed to find.
In September I looked towards the earth.
Life springing eternal in many formsAnd renewing itself once more
Yet not a speck of happiness to keep.
In October I looked to the mystical.
No God nor spirit nor mythical beastCould conjure up that feeling
Which was proving quite elusive.
In November I looked to family and friends.
Their love and companionshipMeans more than anything to me
But that which I cannot find externally.
And then by chance one December day
I happened to catch a fleeting glimpseOf something that had been with me always:
Happiness, in my constant beating heart.
No comments:
Post a Comment