Sonnet MK

The summer little hut
On a flat soft inner peace
The singing bird of natural snoozer
Waking up, to yet another sunshine
Riding up the horse of fuel
To the four high little trees
Men and women, everywhere
Dressing up to a place I call hell
I dare not to go to the devil's den
For it is known
The generous giver of paperworks
Roll and roll upon irritation
And now I'm chewing my breakfast
For wheatbreads, are my best-friend-not-forever
Then the clock strikes to ten
And it's getting colder and quieter,
I seem to be dozing off helplessly
So the phone glides out restlessly
And I smile unknowingly
That you have tweeted me

And all the rest,
Doesn't matter anymore


Written 250pm, 8/10/12
Petaling Jaya