Glass box?

Lying under a mango tree.
You look up to see
the evening sun
being filtered through the leaves.
The earth beneath seems so soft.
And the book beside speaks of the slow
lives of characters
who're in no hurry to be
anywhere outside their page.
The canvas stretches green
with shades of yellow brown.
The only color you add,
a shade of earth
that resembles your skin.
It's bright with an unnatural light.
And the world exists
only in your sight.
Anything beyond was never real.
There were no other people
or any other place.
There was no life
or its mistakes.