Whispers Apples We

we whisper'd our way through
with our happiness,
always careful not to disturb those, who
for some reason or another
would not understand it, or know how
to empathize with it,
because happiness

is something similar to describ
-ing green to someone who's never seen
anything
other than an orchard,
replete with
rotting apples that
they call chrysanthemums;

who are we to say otherwise