List 30 things that make you happy.
Here I’ve gathered thirty joys—no grand design, no ranked array.
They tumbled in, unbidden, soft-footed thoughts along the way.
So many more still linger, unspoken, vast and ever near—
A boundless sea of happiness, too wide to hold all here.
- Echoes of my mother linger sweet—
in laughter’s light and dancing feet.
She spun the world with songs we knew,
our hearts in rhythm, love shining through.
A symphony of joy she gave,
in every giggle, every wave. - I carry the echo of those weekends past,
When my stepfather’s hands steered us toward salt-kissed shores—Martha’s Vineyard one time, then Cape Cod’s quiet grace,
Or winding roads through Connecticut’s green lace.
Each journey a rhythm, a turning of tides,
Where love took the wheel and time gently sighed. - The moments I cradled each child into life, etched in time—
now bloom as they rise, becoming wonders of their own design. - Echoes of workplaces past and friendships grown,
Scattered like petals the wind has blown—
Yet through the glass of time and screen,
Their faces linger, warm and keen.
Bless the digital threads that bind,
A lifeline stretched through space and mind.
Facebook, Instagram—modern grace,
Keeping hearts close across time and place. - I rise to golden morning light,
its warmth a gentle, sweet delight—
not cause of joy, but silent sign
of hope that stirs this heart of mine.
For though the sun may paint the sky,
it’s not the reason spirits fly;
it only whispers what could be—
a day of grace, a chance to see. - At morning’s rise, their laughter lifts—
a melody from floors below,
and in each golden, fleeting breath,
I treasure time’s gentle, glowing flow. - Sharing strange and winding talks with my dad—
the kind no one else would ever spark—
born from the curious corners of his mind,
where the oddest thoughts bloom like wildflowers in the dark. - Resting in stillness, weaving verses that breathe the essence of life’s unfolding story.
- With time in hand, the strength within, and heart alight,
I weave my voice through causes dear,
And forge deep bonds where kindred spirits meet,
A tapestry of care within my home’s embrace. - With every flame I spark anew,
A fresh-born feast unfolds in view—
A dance of flavors, wild and free,
Each meal a whispered mystery. - Crafting fresh wonders from the warmth of the hearth,
where raw dreams meld and rise like morning light—
we summon magic from simple whispers of flour and fire,
birthing delight in each tender, golden turn. - Nurturing the green souls that quietly grow,
Whispering life with each gentle flow.
Cradling leaves in a tender embrace,
I dance with time in this sacred space. - I cherish the gentle dance of words shared with my children,
Moments woven both in their quiet solos and our lively symphony together.
Each conversation a treasure, each time spent—a thread in our tapestry of love. - Wandering endlessly along Castle Island’s shore,
Or drifting softly where George’s whispers pour,
With footsteps weaving tales the sea breeze sings,
In timeless paths where salty freedom clings. - Each dawn, I wandered streets still wrapped in sleep,
A bundle of newsprints, stories bound to keep.
With footsteps light, I traced familiar ways,
A youthful knight in morning’s gentle haze.
Coins jingled softly — treasures earned by sweat,
The promise of delight I’d never forget.
Paragon Park, a shimmering dream in sight,
Where laughter bloomed beneath the fading light.
Rides and candy spun like magic air,
Rewards for daily tasks, tender and rare.
Those moments carved in memory’s art,
The childhood riches held close to the heart. - Echoes of my youth rise—
A wild roar unleashed atop Paragon’s twisting spine,
Wind whipping through my reckless joy,
While far below, my parents’ faces—
Pale, trembling portraits of fear—
Trace silent prayers against the sky. - The weight of time wrapped softly ‘round my chest,
As I pinned the emblem on his steadfast chest.
A child transformed by dreams and steady hands,
Now standing tall where honor firmly stands.
The badge a beacon, shining bright and true,
A promise kept beneath the skies of blue.
I watched him rise—no longer just my son—
But guardian where the dawn and duty run.
From tender years to nights beneath the stars,
His journey written in these battle scars.
And in that moment, proud and bittersweet,
Our hearts beat fierce, two souls that now complete. - There is a sacred quiet in the room—
A miracle unfolding, twice in one breath.
One small soul arrives, a whispered promise,
And somewhere near, another life stirs softly,
Their arrivals weaving together like twin threads
In the tapestry of my heart.
To watch a grandchild’s first breath is to witness time bend,
To hold eternity in a fleeting moment—
A love reborn, multiplied beyond measure.
There is nothing like this sacred joy,
The gift of presence at the dawn of life’s newest song. - Echoes linger of those rugged rides —
worn wheels rolling through time’s dust,
each dent a story, every rusted curve
whispering of days before the dawn of new.
Dad never chased the gleam of fresh steel,
but treasured the soul in seasoned frames,
vintage heartbeats beneath weathered paint,
old engines humming the songs of yesterday. - In my drifting hours, I roam to lands unknown,
Savoring flavors that dance on tongues like whispered poems.
I wander through hidden nooks where treasures quietly hide,
Delighting in discoveries that catch me by surprise. - I cherish the quiet hush of night,
Beneath a silver, glowing orb so bright.
Reclined, I gaze where stars softly sigh,
Lost in echoes of days that have flown by,
And dreams yet to bloom in the sky’s vast blue,
Whispering tales of what’s to come, too. - Echoes of faces and places
that once brushed the corridors of my days—
whispers stitched into the fabric of my being,
flickering like distant stars
in the vast, unfolding sky of my memory. - To cross paths with leaders of great renown—
From childhood days still wandering the same streets
Where Michael Dukakis once walked as our Governor,
And pausing to capture a moment beside him,
A living frame of history and hope.
I’ve met Maura Healey in her early stride,
Filmed among the corners of my old neighborhood,
Sharing a quiet, thoughtful exchange beneath the city’s pulse.
How rare and sweet it is—to stand close to those
Who shape the rhythm of the very streets we call home,
Guiding the heart of our city with steady hands. - In halls where voices blend and rise,
I stood among the gathered wise,
A thread within a vibrant seam—
Together, more than just a dream.
Each word exchanged, a steady beat,
Our hearts in sync, our purpose sweet,
With every vote, a future spun,
A tapestry of work well done.
Though days were long and challenges steep,
Our collective will was strong and deep,
And in that room, a team became—
A living spark, a lasting flame.
Now in the quiet of my mind,
Those moments etched, a truth I find:
Not one alone, but all as one,
We built what’s more than said or done. - The instant the words I helped weave into honor of the land
rose and found their place in the heart of the Town Meeting,
after I and a few kindred voices stood
to share the weight of why remembering matters—
that breath of acceptance was like dawn breaking,
a quiet triumph folded into the air,
where acknowledgment became more than speech,
but a promise rooted deep in the soil beneath us. - Crossing paths with Thomas Green,
A proud voice of the Massachusett kin,
Together we weave stories old and true,
Guiding young hearts and the wider world,
To honor the roots that time has held —
The living history of his people’s soul. - Ascending to lead the League of Women Voters in Brookline,
I embrace a steadfast purpose—a living thread woven through our town,
A ceaseless call to gather hearts and minds,
To kindle the flame of understanding deep within each soul,
That they may grasp the sacred weight of their voice,
The power held in each ballot cast,
And the vital role they play in shaping the world around them. - Since I first set foot in this town at three,
A tapestry of years—fifty-nine in all—has woven itself quietly.
Businesses like fleeting stars have sparkled and faded away,
While humble homes gave rise to steadfast towers that stay.
Affordable havens now rise where once stood only dreams,
Sheltering souls who seek a place where hope gleams. - A small glowing window in my palm,
binding me to distant voices,
whispering across the endless sky—
ready whenever, wherever I wander.
It cradles fleeting sparks of life,
moments caught in gentle light,
tucked into my journey’s pocket,
companions on every step I take. - Rising each dawn with fire in the soul,
A heart set firm, a destined goal.
Awake to chase what calls the mind,
With steadfast will and dreams aligned.
The Writings of Felina Silver 
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