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