An Elegy for Joy
A poem
A poem
Happiness is a migratory bird.
One day it alights on your window sill,
bright plumage glittering.
You marvel at its radiance, tempted to cage it.
But that would dim its vital glow.
So you simply admire its grace,
appreciating each melodic trill.
But soon the bird takes flight,
leaving only faint echoes of its song.
Your window seems duller now, bereft of color and music.
At first, you strain your eyes
hoping for a glimpse of returning wings.
You play past melodies,
trying to recall the thrill they elicited.
But the more you grasp, the further joy retreats.
In time, you accept that bliss
comes in fleeting moments, not lifelong nestings.
You absorb the vacant stillness, no longer warring against silence.
Each visit becomes a gift, not a promise.
You sit, wistful yet at peace, remembering past beauties,
how light danced across gleaming feathers,
caressing shades you’d never imagined.
The quiet afterglow sustains.
Joy’s migrated for now,
but perhaps contentment suits this season better.
You rest in tranquil melancholy,
trusting you’ll hear song again one day.
For now, the hush has its own beauty.