I wrote this poem last year as a collection of moments when I felt extremely happy. Last year was a rough time, so I like to look back on these moments as a reminder that in tough times, you can still find the happiness you need to push through.

Happy

The smell of books, piled on every corner and every row and every shelf

The covers reach to the ceiling and you’re completely surrounded by every title and genre you can imagine.

Fingers trace along the spines, rough and smooth, plastic and cloth, old and new

Your feet are on solid concrete, but the ground still floats gently on the water.

2:30 a.m. is when the world is silent, far off lights blink to signal boats, greens blues and reds.

The air is salty, the cold stings your lungs but keeps you awake when everyone else is asleep.

Sleeves of your buttoned shirt squeeze at your elbow, reaching for the bread at the back of the shelf.

Green apron tied too loose, shoes with no support, you forgot your belt at home but it doesn’t cross your mind.

Content with facing the loaves, content with your company, and for a moment content with your life.

Lying close together, staring at the ceiling, a little drunk and a little high, but so happy.

If I don’t do it, you can’t do it.

Pinky promises, telling your history, no longer alone in your fight

Wake up with your best friend and stumble out the door for coffee.

You have the weight of last night’s conversation on your shoulders but it’s not carried alone now.

Caramel latte, mocha, and a crisp walk home.

Gears shift, flying past lone commuters, music playing loud.

You want to roll down the windows and scream because your heart is so full you might burst.

Laugh until tears roll down your face and you stop making noise, shaking, and trying to catch your breath.