It is going to be noon
the sun is right over the head
its rays penetrate too soon
scorches the body red.
At noon the glorious sun
stands straight without a move
it never goes for a run
but pays havoc in a prove.
The windows and doors are closed
none of the rays pass in
yet the sun’s heat enters the enclosed
grips the residents without a din.
The air circulated is hot
it stifles and strangles in slow
unable to make a start
the people resign to the fate in no glow.
Meenas Poems 