Joy.
Oh, wonderful life.
Joy is love.
Joy is holding hands.
Joy is taking pictures of beautiful things.
Joy is running through forests like an indian.
Joy is braiding strands of your hair to look like a gypsy.
Joy is yoga in your basement with your lava lamp aglow.
Joy is books about everything you love and more.
Joy is writing until your hand cramps… and then you write some more.
Joy is art.
Joy is finding 20 year old viagra and your granmother’s tooth in a jar while cleaning out her kitchen.
Joy is new scarfs.
Joy is making something you are proud of.
Joy is realizing some truth hidden by your once blind mind.
Joy is finding out some fabulous boy that you have liked for two years has liked you for two years also.
Joy is Bob Dylan on a foggy morning at 5:00 am, coffee in hand, still drowsy eyed.
Joy is metal.
Joy is snow and cold.
Joy. Joy is a wonderful thing.
And I’m so happy I can share as much as possible with those who need it.
All we need is a little joy.
