A Portable Paradise

• ''And if I speak of Paradise,''
• ''then I'm speaking of my grandmother''
• ''who told me to carry it always''
• on my person, concealed, so
• no one else would know but me.
• That way they can't steal it, she'd say.
• And if life puts you under pressure,
• trace its ridges in your pocket,
• smell its piney scent on your handkerchief,
• hum its anthem under your breath.
• And if your stresses are sustained and daily,
• get yourself to an empty room - be it hotel,
• hostel or hovel - find a lamp
• and empty your paradise onto a desk:
• your white sands, green hills and fresh fish.
• Shine the lamp on it like the fresh hope
• of morning, and keep staring at it till you sleep.