The Question of Happiness

The question of happiness threw me
As did your attention to the magnolia tree
Though I had seen the wideness of your chest
That some call heart and some soul
And upon thought I’d venture to say that
The chest is where happiness resides
Where light and dark conspire to create
Or resolve the dragging weight of thought.

And I thank you for accepting my sorrow
For acceptance it must be when no attempt
Is made to diminish or erase through talk
What can be eased by endurance
And I wonder how many rely on your
Willingness to abide and admire
The calm of those that by principle
Don’t lie not even to fool themselves.

There must be happiness in such knowledge
Or contentment at least and if your chest now
Is light and your throat free let no one suggest
That it was not well deserved. As for my own
Happiness I shall turn to the magnolia tree
And long look at its short-lived blossom:
Decay doesn’t colour the afterimage of candour
Nor is splendour sullied by swiftness of time.