On a good day, the Sun shines on you.
You are in a Disney movie, stretching your arms,
As the first light of day hits your toes.
And all the sores of the previous nights,
Reduced as mere soap suds down the drain.
Last night's shower is a preview of the first one today, and coffee smells like the freshest brew straight from a pre-packed foil. Nothing beats the thrill of a morning cup.
Life is a sitcom, waiting for the supporting characters to show up and raid your ref, and then! The punchline.
You plan your day.
You invite a good day.
You laugh out loud.
On your best day, you lounge.
You drink your cup and eat breakfast straight from the pan, and the pan loves you for calling the kettle black.
You write your notes on some discarded tissue previously used to wipe off dust.
You are free versing with the staunchest disregard for tones and rules of archaic poetry; sometimes, disavowing a semblance of order.
Because the best is you.
It is now.
And you are but a small supporting character,
Patiently waiting for the chime of the next five punchlines

As I wait for my flight,
I look around and take in the sight,
Of people milling all around,
A giggling child, a mother with a frown.

Wondering about love and dreams,
I see a couple silently weep,
Of forgotten vows and lost promises,
A dying garden filled with black roses.

The building of a new career ,
Are the thoughts of the lone sighing teenager.
The silent reader with a book on her thighs,
Fictional reality living in her eyes.

And as I sit, glancing at my watch,
In my mind a new thought gives a knock,
Of how this thin walled infrastructure,
Is the core of dreams and desires.