On days when I wake up happy
it is hard to write.
Who needs to hear about hours
that bend to my wants
how even the laundry feels easy?
How this picture with words feels beside the point
when there’s warm coffee, leftovers from an Italian restaurant
heat swirling from multiple vents, a girl who sings in tune, a movie ahead
Who wants to read about lack of angst?
Who needs my words when contentment wraps itself around you