Otiose college days. 
( every coming day, it started always the same, waking up late, sleeping late, embracing my inner bird in this way, like there is no time for sleep the very next dawn.)                     

 In the half sleep rubbed my eyes,

Scratched porcupine like hairs fuzzily

And get up most days lazily,

Yet, on the bed several times sways.

With dawn moving away.

The usual day begins in the middle,

When everyone is half way bridged for day.

And it’s been always that way.

The day of all my lazy times

That never sublime.