The poet wakes up after three years:
Lying frail, looking pale
This isn’t the boat in which I dreamed to sail
Cushioned with pillows, floating under willows
Neither any rumbling, nor any chillos
Thoughts dead, no yearn for bread
All throughout, was I misled?
Looking apart, having played my part
Sentence pronounced, I’m ready to depart
Winds blow, skies glow
No friend no foe, away I stow
Stop you fool! Don’t you know the rule?
Recall, what you learnt in the old school
He is fresh as you are, no spar no scar
It’s not yet far, doors always ajar
Don’t frown, just look down
Beneath the beautiful gown, lies your rightful town
Winds blow again, skies glow and rain
Planes and the vane, all hail my reign
He shrugs and tugs and hugs me like a fawn
Yes! dear, this is the dawn; remember, the show must go on..