A Sunday Afternoon

Alone walking a bit, On a Sunday afternoon, With rest all sleeping, Leaving just the desired silence around.

As from the roof, The city wears a peaceful look, Save a rare motorist, On otherwise deserted road.

The sky, partly cloudy, The sun not so enraged; A not so cool or warm wind blowing, As the monsoon retreats.

Below a look at the garden, I admire that pink flower, A bit more than the red beside it; With the grass partly glowing, partly shaded.

With nothing to do, I just wander around, Occasionally standing to watch The eagles circling above, or just like that.

An hour or so, The world around will wake, Ceasing this moment, this silence, For a good long time.

But for now, around Isn’t the coolness of the rain, Or the charisma of a starry night; Nor the soothe of dawn or dusk.

But a unique peace of its own, A peace enough to please, Enough to calm the worries inside, Enough to content my soul.