in good time

when was i happy?

the warm days of summer
playing outside by the apartment
we called "home"
in all it's stucco glory

messy, sweet-scented verbenas
cast alongside pavement
behind the pool that we jumped into
and frolicked so effortlessly in

people define happiness in their own ways
i admit that i am happy now
sometimes obliviously so
but is trying to have it all keep us
from being pure at heart?

i sit on my bed at the moment
lacking in concentration
which i will be punished in paper form tomorrow

everything is quiet
and the translucent light of my lamps
almost twin-like in their yellow energetic ways
throws a pitying darkness over
the bundle of clothes and school things on my chair
as if trying to create
a lack of loneliness next to me

but it is merely a trick of light
and beyond my eyes
i know in my heart
that right now
i could very well be alone.