appetizer

if words could bite
would you still write?

ram cobain

happiness

it’s a friend who never shows he cares
yet whose face in the mirror stares
a mother who scolds but whose lap brings
sleep and dreams with gossamer wings
a book that was written in another age
but which takes you there with every page
an ice-cream cone in hot summer sun
that only melts when the day is done
an innings from a champion past
played only for you from beginning to last
a kiss that makes you weak in the knees
and shows you where heaven must be
a guitar note that lunges and lingers
like the memory voice of your favourite singer
a god who comes good when you need
whose stone ears hear you when you plead
this is what happiness means to me
sweet like the world that newborns see.

ram cobain