My joy is made from-

The scales of a green boomslang,

The first star of the night,

The mischievous schemes of Draco Malfoy,

The rainbows in the sky

And the birthday cake that Zoya got me on my bday.

I found it-

Locked in the throat of a boomslang,

Swishing around the Slytherin dormitory,

Playing around Lord Voldermort,

Delightfully tucked in the fresh sheet which are in the dryer.

This joy can-

Hide the sadness of a loved one’s death,

Whisper lullabies to lost babies,

Build snowmans that never melt,

Make injustice to justice

And turn all poor people to wealthy people.

If I lost this joy-

Even the dead people in their graves would feel it…