Eradicate the sorrows of today,
Plunge in and rejoice all the way,
For there’s no certain morrow,
While through days, we all furrow.
Squeamish in happiness we are,
Awaiting misery, that’s not far,
Silent have become the lips,
Smiles fade away into the dips.
The means of joy aren’t mercenary,
Just clichés age old and legendary,
Of little grins, the many drops,
An ocean of joy, it does prop.