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