A gentle slumber,
On one treacherous
December afternoon
Few drops of cheap
Sparkling Chardonnay
Met one Rip Van Winkle
Trudging through meandering
Folds of Catskill mountains
Blabbering majesty of
King George the great,
Staring amusingly at the
Denim pants; cellular in
Hands, wheeling of the
Eagle afloat, howling of
The winds, chirping of the
Brook below, in semi
Delirious state saw a
Flowing silverish beard
A foot long, smoking pipe
Things have changed
Wondered he, for sure
Bygone are the days of
Innocent laughters, idyllic
Vacations, gone are the days
Where the only malady a
Broken heart, only worry a
Loaf of bread.
( Inspired from the short-story Rip Van Winkle by Washington Irving. The story was first published in 1819. Its story about a drunk drunk Dutch American who falls asleep in Catskill mountains and wakes up from slumber after twenty years after American Revolution. I was reading this story couple of months back and was inspired to pen down a poem)