The dream lets go of my drool-wet hands
And sol peeks from behind the curtains
Where sir polonius hid to detect
My intimate relationship with
Lovely lady sleep of nappingdom
Which- by the looks- has been overthrown
By the de-nightful men of sun kings
Who cock conch blow in declaration
People call it 'just another morn'
But I call it 'victory of light'
(Granted, at the expense of my sleep)
Then up I bounce and ready I get
First the toilet, with an odonil
Hanging with its broken promises
Of keeping the air aromatic,
(But I cannot judge with a blocked nose)
And then I enter the bathroom where
Cockroach party has been disrupted
And the mirror o'er the wash basin
Is dressed in droplets of young winter
Which will prosper in the coming months
When I'll befriend my woollens again
But for now, let me busy my teeth
And bathe in this 'Just another morn'
~Ajay
4/11/17
