An old book with coarse pages,
A new book with smooth
The ink on the cover dried and peeling
Or glossy, shiny, and fresh
Running my fingers across the pages
This is how I can touch happiness.

The smell of my washed hair
The scent of a delicate perfume
The aromas of a bustling street
With untouchable foods in the open
Catching a whiff of the earth on a rainy day
This is how I can smell happiness

The taste of the seasonal mango
The tang of a sour candy
The warmth in a cup of cocoa
Or inexpensive flavoured ice
A classic chaat from ye olde vendors
This is how I taste happiness

The mellow music while sitting in the bus
The loud metal that drowns your thoughts
The soulful indie when I’m all alone
With headphones on against the wall
Birds chittering at five a. m.
This is how I hear happiness

The genuine smile so rarely spotted
The bold colors on a canvas
The pile of gifts at my birthday party
Shiny, new, and begging to be opened
Particles of dust illuminated by a ray of light
This is how I see happiness

They say happiness is intangible
Abstract, untouchable, invisible
But at moments like these, I feel
Like I can almost touch it,
As though it is a literal object
Just out of reach by a mere millimeter
That is when I feel happiness.

By, Pragya, Grade 10, Ekya BTM

Posted by Ekya

Leave a reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *