Significance to the Mundane

The mundane days weigh on me;
Like a thought or a stone.

But maybe there’s a significance to the prosaic things;
The dull days, the routine, the measuring of time.

Maybe without that,
There’d be no best days.

Without the tears from the heartache,
The laughter would fall flat.

Without the gray,
How could the color stand out with stunning beauty?

And I know for a fact that Claire de Lune would not sound nearly as good,
If Chopsticks hadn’t reached my ears by the piano keys first.

Although I love the view when I’ve reached my destination,
Victory would never taste as good if I didn’t have to climb the mountain first.

And without the blank stares of a thousand faces,
How could I have been captivated by the way you looked at me?

I think if I ever again find someone who looks at me like that,
I will know he’s the one for me,
Just like I knew you were.

Why did I have to know so late though?