On a sunlit Sunday,
I dwell in a tranquil room, like a languid sloth,
Lost in cherished books, fingers dance on keys,
A sip of tea, my mind unfolds,
Everything flows with effortless grace.

Outside, the world hums a distant tune,
But here, time slows, and I am cocooned,
In the gentle rhythm of pages turned,
And the warmth of tea, like a quiet embrace,
In this peaceful haven, I find my place.