lazy lucky

ah yes, metaphoric it sure was. Poetic even, for the joy in the unsaid.
Waking up to the reddish sun streaming in, squinting into half-shut eyes. Sigh to happily doze again, coz there ain’t nowhere to go.
The dumb lambada from outside the door… it begins to flow in with sleepy breathing. I grin at having nothing to do. And grin wider at walking slow among rushing madness around. All they say is- that's bombay. live with it. Does no one know that you can take the local earlier and enjoy the ride? I didn't, for one. I was told.
One minute ambles into the next, all a muddle. Whizzzzzzzzz... that one-bus locality. The house of green and red. That one little chair. Only one there was, thank heavens. Talk of presidents and cartoons. That much laughing should be lethal. But wait, was it laughs, or inside smiles? Then beams. or snorts. Sleep and sloth, but strangely, no yawns. Panic only when a snug snuggle slips away.
I may have bottled the warmth. And the singing mosquito that only one song sung. mmm... How lazy can bliss be?