What Is Happiness?

I rest my laurels and just move on,
for praise I do not need.
It's enough for me to be happy inside.
On this is what I feed.

And what happiness do I know?
Is it always here?
No, it's not but when I feel it
it's usually from what I hold dear.

Loving voices with words sincere,
compassionate ways that bring a tear,
musical sounds I do revere
and my family to which I do adhere.

And what more should I expect from life?
Nothing more than this.
All these things that bring me peace
are like a passionate kiss.

poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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