When from its nest, the babyish sun
Nestles in my window, curls
Into my room, snuggles
Down into my blanket, cuddles
Me by its glossy hands, I know
Into my ears, it sings
The first song of the morn.
Down the window and down the lane
A tree, the branches of which on the drums
And the leaves dance in concord, when
The chirps, the tweets, the caws sing
In chorus, the hymn of the morn.
From inside of my inner dome, then
And precisely from the kitchen
The amusing, funny crockery
Of brass, metal and steel
And the sink and its funny whistle
Synchronically, in harmony
Play the symphony
For a long day's song!
And, I'm in love
with my comfort zone!
Susanta Pattnayak
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/comfort-zone-12/
