In twilight's gentle sigh, Shadows dance, then swiftly die, A fleeting smile, a wistful glance, Caught in the web of fleeting chance. Whispers of joy, then clouds of gray, Heartstrings tug in a fragile play, Like morning mist that fades too soon, It was no more than a mood swing's tune. Through the highs and the lows we glide, In emotions' tide, we seek to ride, Yet even storms must pass and bring, The calm that follows a mood swing.