In the stillness of the afternoon haze,
Where time drips slowly, like melting ice,
The mind wanders through endless maze,
Seeking refuge in thoughts so precise.

The clock’s hands move in a lazy dance,
Shadows lengthen, stretch and yawn,
Eyes glaze over in a vacant trance,
As the world turns, dusk to dawn.

Whispers of the wind, a lullaby so plain,
Leaves rustling, telling tales of past,
Yet within the quiet, a silent chain,
Holds the spirit, in boredom cast.

An echo of dreams, yet to take flight,
In the heart’s chamber, softly hums,
Awaiting the spark, the guiding light,
To break the monotony that numbs.