Cris de Borja

Sadness is shelf-safe.
It preserves forever, uncaring if the dust is thick;
It will be waiting, even if forgotten.
It never goes rancid.
Who could tell, anyway?
Even fresh, it makes one sick,
a bad odor, a terrible taste,
a texture to cause gagging.

But Happiness
must be newly picked
So that its juices are sweet and flowing.
It spoils so quickly
One must have a ready supply
always ripening
always growing
Happiness does not keep.
In its abundance, share it;
Happiness is not for hoarding.

08-03-2005

Tagged: freeform, poem