The Clocks all tick on london bay. Tick.Tick. Tick. It creeps so softly, can you hear it? A red balloon floats heavenward upon a silver breeze. And parchment stretches on the rack. The quill pens devour the page and so we write when we mean it. And the skies are grey but still we sing; we watch the red balloon. And we all eat warm bread and run in the rain and create conniving tunes! "What a joy to be!" We scream raptourously and still look around in the grass. "Is it in the stream or in progress or children?", As we let the juice of life trickle down our chin... Let's dance and laugh and sing and cry until happiness joins us again! Is happiness gone? Do we need to pursue it? My hesitant answer is, "no". Happiness is here, we just have to see it The key is merely finding "it".
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