I shall gather up this sunshine,
And with it fill my pockets.
In that way, I can carry it with me always...
Always, and wherever i go.
When the storms of life rage at me,
Casting darkly gloomed shadows;
When the winds of change funnel into gray cyclones--
Of confusion there present
And of the debris of the past;
If trouble rains acidic droplets--
Bitter tears born of fulfillment denied;
Beneath cold and clouded sorrow;
In fear; in doubt; in heartache;
Even in the bleak "winters of my discontent,"
I will pull it out in fistfuls
And sprinkle it about me
To watch it in all its golden splendor--
The sweet nectar that is this present happiness--
Burst into ribbons of color
(Underneath a canopy of vibrant blue),
Then say to myself,
"Ah!
This is contentment!"
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