Bubbles, bursts and blasts

Of the purest, sweetest water 

Tumbling out from an effervescent spring 

Drenching the feet 

And soaking the jeans

Of anyone  standing close by,

Reducing burdens 

Quenching fear 

Swelling freedom.

He was increasingly becoming

The kind of person

Who ate hope for breakfast

And drank deep throughout the night 

Of the joy

He’d been searching for all his life. 

“Joy” he said,

“Is not a reward after a hard day’s work,

Or a luxury reserved for Christmas and New Year’s 

Rather it is a necessary  beverage that nourishes 

And sustains,

Giving us daily strength 

For even the slightest of endeavours” 

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