Silly poetic me

Before cold reality
Like ice water
Was smacked
Across my
Silly poetic eyes
And smashed
The rose tinted glasses
Silly poetic me
Loved to wear
I used to weave
Silly stories
About the Sun
Whom I adored
As the brightest
Light
In my sky
I imagined
The koel's calls
Were love songs
She sang
Tirelessly
To her adored
Sun
I strode
Across
Hard tarmac
As if I walked
On velvet plush
Carpets
I saw gold
Dripping
From
Sun drenched
Leaves
When
The trees
Quivered
In a shower
Of rain

My silly poetic soul
Quivered
In tune
With
All the sights
And sounds
I beheld
And
All the while
I hummed
Melodies
Silly poetic Me
Created
Out of
Nothing

So, dear Anonymous
I want to thank you
From
The bottom
Of my
Silly poetic heart
For
Splashing
The ice water
Of reality
On my
Silly poetic face
It is important indeed
To know
The difference
Between
The fiction
Silly poetic Me
Conjures up
From the
Nothing
That harsh
Reality
Is really made of

The sun
It is just
A gaseous orb
The koel
Is merely a bird
Its calls meaningless
Sounds
The trees, the rain
And all that stuff
Are just matter
That occur
Randomly
The hard tarmac
Is just that
Hard and unbending

It's far better
To look
Squarely
At the world
In the harsh
Glare of reality
And, thankfully
Now my sleepless
Nights
Devoid
Of silly poetic
Dreams
Are
Peacefully dead