The Rabbit of Happiness

Once I was told of the bluebird of happiness
A story I'd quickly dismiss
Even at my young and impressionable age
I knew a bluebird could never bring bliss.

But now I am older and wiser and warmer
And now have somewhat of a habit
For explaining to people the bird can't bring smiles
But one creature that can is a rabbit.

Exuding maturity was par for the course
When I was a pre-teen brat
Pretending to know of the world all around
While doubting the place I was at.

While those around me developed so fast
I staggered along in their wake
Still fighting desire for unbound delight
And the magic my childhood would make.

Still turmoil within me, I stumbled inside
Of a cramped up and half closed down store
Creatures spat noises from everywhere near
And I stopped - and I slowed down in awe.

A rose-tinted lens seems to blur my recall
But the image is still crystal clear
Smooth golden fur and near to black eyes
On the rabbit that dared to come near.

I took him that day to my home not too far
Tucked him up with some salad and hay
He seemed so content as I drifted inside
And was even still there the next day.

My hands are far bigger than they were before
Yet he never recoils from my touch
He's still in his youth and so am I
His affection affects me so much.

When I see a bird I don't sing to the sky
Nor lower my head out of habit
Instead I gaze past to the store out of town
And thank God for my little rabbit.