In the stillness of a languid afternoon,
Where time seems to stretch and yawn,
The minutes drip like honey from a spoon,
And the world feels endlessly withdrawn.

Shadows dance upon the empty walls,
In a room where silence loudly speaks,
The ticking clock, a distant call,
To dreams that wander, whispers weak.

A restless heart in a tranquil sea,
Drifts aimlessly without a shore,
Seeking sparks of creativity,
Yet finding nothing, nothing more.

Oh, boredom, thou relentless muse,
In your grasp, the mind does sway,
Yet through your veil, I may peruse,
The hidden gems of another day.