where to wake up is a pleasure
without the presence of time
nor the shadow of trouble
where the air smells fresh
and the birds sound happy
the universe their playground.
where the afternoon naps a must
and the evening tea is a habit
strolling down the lakeside
crystal clear waters reflecting a kite
the heaven its zenith.
where the crackling sound of burning logs
turn glowing embers into stars
and the stillness of the grayish night
overlaps the dark horizon
a black hole looming large.
No comments:
Post a Comment