Monday, 12 October 2015

Sleeping in Blue Jeans

So, another gloomy moment,
Passes by, under a haphazard blanket,
Brooding over what hope really means,
And from a moment, it evolves into a fortnight.

The prime hour to repent,
Then hatches a drenched silhouette,
They say it's okay, however when one leans
Their act is claimed as a call for the limelight.

Legs akimbo and spirit spent,
Wrapped neither in georgette, nor in velvet,
But, in a pair of tapered jeans,
Anticipating a flash of a spotlight.

When confined to bricks and cement,
All one has is a bottomless palette,
Dreary enough to drain the greens,
Yet brimming with yellows and blues in hindsight.

As dawn sprays its everlasting scent,
The sun will gradually blush scarlet,
Let this torture sprout like a stalk of beans
Because I am sleeping in my Blue Jeans tonight.


~Poem 18


Sleeping in blue jeans
(Picture credits: Unknown; Source: Piccsy)