Happiness for me is a fleeting thing.
It lands on me like a butterfly.
For a brief moment it is there, then it flutters off again just out of my reach.
Taunting me to catch it, but unable to.
When I do manage to grasp it, I fear that I may hold it to tight and crush it.
So it escapes my grasp once again.
Copyright © 1998, Eric Sten. All rights reserved. Use without permission is prohibited