HAPPY ART

Ink, feeling and rhythm. Art arriving.
Paper, canvas and studio. Art deriving.
Spatula, music and dance. Art surviving.
Smile, laughter and giggles. Art laughing.

Happiness really does exist. Yes it is.
And it is good to be happy. Oh yes, it is.

When art inspires joy. Much better we see.
And much joy we feel when much better we see.

Good to see, to feel and express. Much more then less.
While we roll on the floor, exalting so many yes.
In the eagerness to give ourselves, just the way we say yes.

The pencil is part of home. This delightful drunk pencil.
It slides across the paper. Extension of mind, essential.

You there, speak about ceramics has the shape of a rose.
My garden grows and the flowers reopen. So many roses.
You are my preferable bouquet. A woman like a rose.

Your chewing sounds like music, while I kiss you.
Our dances are spell intertwining with happiness, too.
In having us, as partners, man and woman, me and you.
In our home shared by two, after been adorned by me and you.

The pencil returns from where it went, erasing the insane writing.
In the end it just writes only “love”.. Our most beautiful writing.
Happy art of ours. We are happy art. This so wonderful happy art.

Ink, feeling and rhythm. Art arriving.
Paper, canvas and studio. Art deriving.
Spatula, music and dance. Art surviving.
Smile, laughter and giggles. Art laughing.

Happiness really does exist. Yes it is.
And it is good to be happy. Oh yes, it is.