Few numbers short of a hundred,
the barest minimum to go.
I answer with fear.
The last leg makes me nervous,
know not the reason
find myself not too confident.
I enocunter with trepidation.
My hands quiver.
I slid them into my pockets.
I have crossed 99 mark.
One more to achieve. I hear the
heartbeats. The final.
I come out with the correct answer.
It is a win. Reached hundred.
My eyes well with tears of joy.
Meenas Poems 