Prosaic

It's the small things that we need to look at to keep reminding ourselves that it's our uniqueness , our imperfections that make us human.
The daily toil that reminds us of our fallibility,frailty.
Some days a good night's restful slumber is the start of a great day.
Some days nothing seems to click and we get raving mad over the slightest things.
Some days prosaic is wonderful, a cup of steaming green tea.
A melodious bird song.