Laughter is magic that dispenses clouds and creates sunshine in the soul.

The summer sun welcomes me outto sandy beaches with palm trees. I am lulled by caressing raysas warm as heavy, denim quilts.The heat melts away distressesfrom my muscles, from my thinking.Entranced and contented, I baskin the careless arms of sunshine.

I love when the sun plays hide-n-seek for a few days because its invisibility often goes unnoticed. The world seems content that its presence behind the clouds is enough. But as soon as that brilliant sun jumps into the open sky once again―shining in full splendor―our closed eyes automatically turn toward it, and we bask beneath a warm and tender touch, grateful all the more that our glorious sun exists.

You are not my sunshine. Sorry. You're more like a gust of arctic wind that bursts in and blows out all the candles when the door cracks open.

To wish for the happiest days is to wish for a season of sorrow; for it is only after prolonged, wintry darkness that the summer sun appears to shine at its brightest.