Happy thoughts come from happy places,
and sad thoughts from sad spaces,
though all I have seen are empty faces
in an attic full of a thousand cases.
And I knew not if there was anything inside.
If there was, you’d expect me to have cried.
Though, if I said I hadn’t already, then I have lied—
because inside, the faces had already died.
And I became lost, and quite cold.
My spirit then became fragile and old,
but it was then that I was told
that all the souls were wrongly sold.
To whom? I hadn’t a single clue,
but it left me feeling rather blue.
I knew not if what I was told was true,
but I knew then what I had to do.
I placed a thought in each one’s mind—
a happy thought I once could not find.
No longer lost, I could see they were kind,
and I knew I’d done the right thing this time.