My cognizance, along with my breathing parts,

keeps tallying my happiness

that comes to me

in a beaten egg with fragmented, kaput shells –

unable to separate, or manage to wrangle

my way into the unadulterated honey,

while moments slip through

with the ease of sand

flowing through an hourglass.

I am this primate forever looking for

a sweet treat in every fruit vendor’s cart,

at the same time as the efflux of whatever

happiness remains within considers

suffusing with another cheery being,

like smoke pervades the air.

I continue to believe in the Cinderella story,

where happiness will appear in a princely form.

I am, forever, a kid in the realm

of the unaccountable life.

Perhaps I need to learn to leave my shoe

at the right place.