The Letter.

Lying in bed,
Lazing at noon,
A perambulator of thoughts
Creak in and out
With the sun’s last rays.
Hands move towards the desk.
Plain paper and my pen.
Thoughts flow.
Thoughts ebb and
Flow again.
Till pages are no more.
The soul is sore
Tis almost dusk
The heat and loo have gone
As quickly as they’d
Clamped down.
Sublime sunset

Through my window,
And you
Far away.
Time for studies again.