Happiness from a bottle
comes in shape of a pill.
The trembling fingers dance in mid air
and take solidity of happiness in
I count the pills carefully
blue, yellow, white, бн
blue, yellow, white, .. no red
happiness does not come in red.
colors touch my lips
the bitterness, my sight.
still counting
blue, yellow, white, .. no red
happiness does not come in red.
the pills slide down the throat
and I await the happiness.
Copyright © 2007 by giv arya