Dreamland

I once built a dreamland.
Curated over a mundane bus ride,
With the essence of unfinished deadlines.
The clear windshield was a TV screen,
I stared through it, changed channels in my mind,
The seats turned into comfortable recliners,
And the smell of soothing coffee took over my senses.

The loud noises of the road started damping,
My favourite music played through my ear.
I was heading to my dream home from the work I love,
And home was everything I had built with love.
I was in my dreamland, with clearest mind,
The clear skies in a country that is one of a kind.

The day offs were spent in the nearby museums,
Walls of glass and art I could cluelessly appreciate.
Clueless of any details like my present self,
I found comfort in my imaginations.
My dreamland through the windshield,
It was starting to feel very real

The journey in the bus seemed unending,
To think how discouraging the journey actually was,
I curated my dreamland as an escape from reality,
With essence of unfinished work, disoriented future plans.
The dreamland I curated, the noise of the road I neglected,
The courage I could finally find,
The new perspective I could visualize.