Attempting

I think it's time to write a happy poem,
a poem to write that is happy.

Words elude me when it comes to
this mysterious emotion,
this mysterious feeling of being placated
in the moment.
Is it because it lasts but a moment?
Until something happens that destroys
every fiber of our being
and we are reborn again,
from darkness unto light?

She might be in love, with him,
not yet,
but maybe.
But she is scared of this being taken away,
so she walks in circles
until games become lives,
and trophy wives cast the die,
let the cookie crumble the way it falls,
the maid is here to clean it all up.

This was supposed to be a happy poem,
not an introspective one.
I need to write more happy poems,
happiness is just love won, after all.