Happiness is a hill full of flowers
In the brilliance of the morning sun
Right after the touch of soft spring showers.
Columbines, daisies, and Queen Anne’s Lace
All do their best to put a smile on your face.
.
Happiness is the laugh of a child
An innocent but mischievous, snickering grin
A young imagination run wild
As their glorious dreams of life begin.
.
Happiness a dream we wove
When two hearts began to blend
Into life encased in lasting love
For those who share it will never end.
.
.
Céad Míle Fáilte 
I remember a needlepoint that hung on my grandmother’s wall (most often crooked by the way) ~ “True love stories never end.”…….. But that’s because love doesn’t end. Although it changes, it remains as much a part of us as the color of our eyes or the way we cross the street. We are love and we are loved……..Such is the truth of life everlasting! Beautiful, Paul. ~ Love, Bobbie
What was it about grandmothers and needlepoint? I had one who did it…, the other collected it. Wish I’d been wise enough at the time to save some of Grams work. It was beautiful. …and the phrase “true love stories never end” is something to be written in stone. They only end when someone forgets to remember. Thanks, Bobbie. ~xol~Paul