Happiness Is A Web Of Crayon Scribbles Poem by Eric Gibson

Oh, come on.
Haven't I pondered a single
glorious notion all day?

My passion and grace is
an erratic neighbor,
visiting at strange hours and
scribbling on my kitchen floor
with a crayon,
giggling,
while I chase him with a fish net.

'NOT ON THE COUCH! ! ! '

He soars away in an exultant sigh,
leaving electricity in the air.
A pulse.
A feeling of disturbance.

I feel so alive for a moment.

I smile,
breathless and elated...

I hope he stays that way
forever.