On some mornings,
You look out of your window,
The Jhelum calls you to its gentle waves,
The Azaan from the mosque across the river,
Echoes – all around,
Waking the sleeping birds.
The glisten of the sun leaps on the gentle slumber of the water,
Reflecting and shining, perfection.
You wake up not from a deep sleep,
Rather a phase where you were dreaming, planning, imagining;
And then you wake up,
To see the morning is everything you wanted it to be and much more.