Joy on the wings of hope

It floats heavenward
on a zephyr of my hope;
plucking at the tuft
of pristine cottony cloud,
it flits and flies, rising up.
It is joy, unbound
of my gay spirited laugh;
on the wings of dreams
it gains momentum to rise
and ascends towards the sky.
From the sylvan glade
i spy this play of my dreams.
A needed vista.
My heart burgeoning with love,
I am gleeful, euphoric.
Such is the beauty
when hope and joy confluence.
Happiness transcends,
a rosy glow permeates;
life holds a deeper meaning.
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