Woke up this morning with a book in bed,

As I had slept with the writer in mind,

A strong desire to lie propped up at a tilt,

All day read burrowed under a quilt.

Then looked out the window pane ,

Sunrays prancing through curtain rails,

Beckoning to rise on a frosty day,

Enticing me to explore gardens on display.

My loved one reading morning newspaper,

Had been hanging by my door forever,

Staying tuned to my private endeavor,

Transferred  to a world of fantastic fervour.

What life could be like so many years back?

Pages leading to some magical shack,

Invisible, magical world seem so real,

Bonding together distant  creatures unreal.

Loneliness of existence is  not in stake,

Bliss of solitude in splendour awake,

A utopia of peace where ends all strife,

A refuge from almost all miseries of life.

@copyright reserved Jyotirmaya Thakur.