Happy Poem by Marlin Nightingale

When the fiery sun turns to misty nite,
At the end of a dreary day.
I turn from cluttered mindless thought,
And push it all away.
I think of places that there are on islands in the sea,
'Neath shady palms and golden beach and seagulls flying free.
Of gentle waves, their steady wash, upon the silky sand,
The briny air, whose tender breeze, is soft upon my hand.
And when I'm tired of thinking of the places I can't go,
I grin and laugh and fall asleep beneath a soft pillow.