The sunshine ever so bright
always scorching right
keeps one warm and humid
renders one meek and timid
not anything to do with character
all through depends on the weather
perspiration and fatigue are a deviant
drive one far away from the event
paralyse they 
to the core
never allows one to reach the fore
that be the destiny of us
who live in tropics in a buzz
where the population teems
the sound of life is in screams
yet we survive between the droughts
Well! it could be our stoicism stout.
Meenas Poems 