Waiting until joy would come again.
Would it be a Tuesday? Maybe a Sunday?
Would it surprise me in the morning or perhaps as the sun set?
Would it come with fanfare, or with quiet reverence?
Would it be like the coming of Christmas morning or the warm embrace of an old friend?
I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned to find joy standing beside me smiling, its arm around my shoulder,
It was there all along, only waiting for me to remember.
Joy is funny that way.