Let me spill happiness on the
road leading to your soul
like spilled incense from a censer.

Grant me the permission
to nurse your broken heart with
my alchemical tools and
restore your heart;
stolen totem of joy.

Permit me to cannily mend
your jagged soul shroud
with my needle-threaded of affection
and your soul's dormant seed of bliss
shall sprout like seedlings
under cosmic rays.

Let me snare your troubles
and make your wistful face
a mirror reflecting merry.
And your weary legs, let me
massage them with my heavenly
tender palms and your pains shall
stampede like cowards at war front
and for once never look back.

This poem is about: 
Our world
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 


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