A Piece of Rainbow Blooming in a Gray Landscape

One warm bowl of ramen offered quiet comfort. With no words, a shared meal became a memory of subtle, lasting happiness.

One evening, though there was no rain,

a quiet dampness settled in my heart.

At times like that, I crave warmth—not reason, but comfort.

A bowl that fills you, not just your stomach, but your soul.

As I stepped into the ramen shop,

the aroma wrapped around me like a soft blanket.

The deep, rich broth held layers of stories,

and the grilled chashu felt like a symbol of care.

Even the soft-boiled egg seemed made with love,

and the naruto and scallions brought a playful beauty.

Sitting side by side with someone dear,

sharing a quiet meal,

we exchanged something beyond words

with just a look over steaming soup.

Even the small dish of kimchi

offered a mix of comfort and surprise.

It was a short meal, but full of warmth.

Some evenings are like this.

Not glamorous, but unforgettable.

Moments of small but certain happiness.

Ramen was not just a dish,

but that evening’s silent conversation.