Could There Be One Word To It?

Joy alike to mine residest in the wet smile of that granddad with

Whose son every stranger wishest to play with and giggle with

Joy alike to mine residest in the eyes of that goon whom approached thee

With a wish of disappearing his misery

Joy alike to mine residest in those

Those sculptures who were freed after the perennial to get broken

Joy alike to mine residest in those drizzles departest who from the cloud, their master for good

A joy, brought to me by thee, unrelatable and unreasonable,

When showest understanding and trust,

There assures though no tryst,

Something that blooms out of broken pieces,

Drenched in love

Ever and ever