Inane

Inane thoughts drift like lazy clouds,
A pointless chuckle, soft and loud—
They tickle the mind with frivolous sighs,
Where sense takes leave and nonsense flies.

We stroll through corridors of daft delight,
Where giggles bloom in broad daylight,
And every trivial, daft remark
Adds colour to the mundane dark.

So let the inane unfurl its thread,
A harmless web where worries shed,
For in the silliness we find
A breath of joy, unconfined.