Advent by Lisa Zaran
Now suppose happiness,
the numerous moments
in life that hold like legacy
in the mind.
Believe me when I say
I am infected with memories
of happiness, tiny instances
whose translation is merely
to suggest that I, too, was once
a happy person.
As so happens,
anyone who tries to get to the heart
of happiness, moment by moment,
will find that most of life’s happy times
are filled with daily conversations,
forgotten words that echo through
the framework of time.
Some so far gone, that even the most
joyful time in life can indeed
contribute to the bulk of one’s sadness.
Ah, happy times. Good times,
people claim.
As I sit, pouring through my smiles,
trying to find the one that suits me best.
