My Past Joys

Whenever my day is blue And I can’t find a single reason to smile I think to my past joys They could be tiny, Like my so so so small hands, grasping for the perfect green crayon to make brother’s eyes glow Or they could be big, Like the larger-than-life characters from my favorite cartoons growing up Or perhaps, It could simply be a hug and a kiss before bed every night But what matters not is their size, nor how many times it happened Because whenever I think of them, My past joys, I feel just a bit better