It is my lawn
that is my concern.
Once lush green
looks pale now.
The grass is scarce
in shafts and tufts.
The soil is obvious
dry and withered.
That of a past glory,
the lawn is like an empire
ruined by foes,
a skeleton of the grandeur.
The pathetic status
makes me lament.
I feel sore and sad.
hastily wipe my tears.
A seasonal effect people claim,
unable to reconcile. I break down.
The well laid sprawling grass
disturbs me in my sleep.
Meenas Poems 