A mind’s quiet place amongst the everyday hustle
of the gritty billboard ridden city,
I pity the ones who lack a fortress of solitude.
Be it ever so humble,
there is nothing like a long morning after a wild night,
listening to jazz and drinking raspberry tea
while admiring the sun and other random objects that shine over me.
It seems as if silence is a treasure
observed only by those who have heard the ambience
of their A to B commute for a bit too long
and strive to prolong the routinely inevitable.
Meditation of a sort, a sect of tranquility; a table for one.