The sun slips behind the clouds,
but the light still lingers on my skin—
like a quiet promise.
Coffee steams in my hands,
warm and steady,
while the world hums a little louder outside the window.
I catch myself smiling at nothing—
just the way the day moves,
slow enough to notice,
fast enough to keep me guessing.
There’s a weight in the chest sometimes,
a tiredness not quite named,
but it’s balanced by small things:
the laugh of a stranger,
the soft hum of a song I love,
the comfort of shoes worn just right.
And maybe that’s enough—
to breathe, to feel the simple sway
of ordinary, unfolding.