The sharp, the flat,

the major and minor

don't blend today.

The resonance and black

don't hit,

don't make my feet tap today.

When the mosquito buzzed from under my chin,

when i traced half its path

but the end of where it went-

dawn shown.

The mynah's chant wasn't zealous.

Me- not so much either.

To the monk, to ruminate

its seems it went away.

To find its peace,

A piece of my mind someone took away.