Some days arrive without their weight,
as if the hours forget what they were meant to carry.
A spark appears, almost by accident,
and the air feels easier to breathe.
It never asks for much,
a word, a laugh,
something so small it shouldn't matter,
yet somehow it does.
But nothing lingers forever.
The glow drifts quietly away,
and the silence settles back in place,
familiar as an old companion.
And I don't call it unfair.
I don't chase what's gone.
It's simply the way days return to themselves,
steady, unchanging, whole again.