Little Day

some days are big
and some days are little
my mind wanders softly
my thumbs flit and twiddle.
what if far far away
in a place I don’t see,
someone bigger is busy
doing more things than me?
when a day is just tiny
it makes me feel small,
like the boy who had just lost
his mom at the mall

sit down
and don’t move
she will be back soon
or someone will help you
who knows what to do.

but why should this day
be less than the rest,
if small is the one reason
it can’t be the best?
little days are that way,
but they are just as good
you can sit and can breathe
like you normally should.
in fact nothing is wrong
with this little day,
now I can’t help but wonder
why it first felt that way.
why should I worry?
I still have plenty to do,
like call my mom just to say,
“Hi, I love you.”