Happiness is fleeting,
It is a balloon that tiny palms
Are incapable of reaching.
Watching it fly above and beyond us.
For we are dreamers by nature.
When those emotions feel almost tangible
And the hope swells in our chests,
Maybe , just maybe...
All things become plausible when
Eyes are clasped so tightly shut.
But there is no denying
The sound and the feeling
As our hands clutch at -
Scraps of rubber