In the quiet hum of a dreary afternoon,
Time drips slowly like honey from a spoon.
The walls whisper secrets of days gone by,
As I sit and watch the hours crawl and sigh.

The ticking clock, a relentless friend,
Reminds me that this ennui might never end.
Shadows dance in the fading light,
While my thoughts wander into the night.

The mundane rhythm of life’s boring song,
Plays on and on, ever so long.
Dreams of excitement, fleeting and rare,
Dissolve into the still, stagnant air.

Yet in this silence, a strange peace I find,
A moment to rest my weary mind.
For boredom, though it may seem so bleak,
Gives space for the soul to quietly speak.