Poetry Print - How Good Can It Get

How good can it get? I ask the sky,
as morning spills in gold on high.
The breeze responds with scented grace,
a kiss of sun across my face.
How good can it get? I ask the day,
as laughter lifts the dust away.
Each moment glows, a beating drum,
a whispered thrill of what's to come.
A hand in mine, a look, a smile,
a quiet walk, a stretched-out mile.
The world is stitched in hidden thread,
of dreams once lost, now bloomed instead.
It’s not in riches, grand or loud,
but coffee steam, a softened cloud.
The way a song can make me cry,
the way your eyes say “so do I.”
How good can it get? I see it clear:
It's this—this breath, this love, right here.
And just when I think I've touched the height,
life gifts me more, more warmth, more light.