In the quiet hours of the morn,
When the world is still and slow,
I find solace in the gentle embrace,
Of a day with no urgent pace.

The ticking clock fades to a whisper,
As I sink into the comfort of ease,
With no demands or pressing tasks,
Just moments of pure, languid peace.

The sun climbs high, but I remain,
Wrapped in the warmth of idle dreams,
No rush, no race, no frantic chase,
Just the soft hum of time’s gentle streams.

Evening falls, and stars appear,
Yet still, I lie in sweet repose,
For in the arms of laziness,
I’ve found a rare and precious glow.