Post Lunch

Curtains sway

In gentle winds

Sunlight tries to

Continuously peep

An irritating hum

Of world half dead

Competes with the ceiling fan

It’s somewhere between

Noon and eve

Engrossed in files

Or tapping on keys

Souls have since long

Going to sleep

Behind a laconic face

Voices mumble

Not wanting to break

Peaceful trance

That lunch affects

Clock on wall

Slows down to a still

As one yawns, others join in

Quality of boredom, purest and rare

Between noon and eve