Happiness is not a treasure found,
Nor a crown the lucky wear;
It’s the art of seeing sunlight spill
On things too small to care.
It’s painting peace with steady breath,
In colors soft and true,
Finding joy in simple strokes—
A morning sky of blue.
It’s sculpting warmth from passing words,
And shaping calm from noise;
The art of being happy lives
In moments, not in toys.
For happiness, like gentle art,
Is learned through heart, not rule—
A masterpiece of humble grace,
Where love becomes the tool.
Therapy Bits 
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