Hijacked by loveliness
I fly to the realms
where beauty rules
with grace.
I espy a rugged stone
deficient in all dimensions
lies on a hillock
unnoticed.
I go trekking a week after.
A figure with fine lines
smiles. I go near to find
whether it is one real.
The stone has turned life like.
Ravishing and beautiful
The stone speaks.
Breathes life.
Wondering I climb down the hills
notice a heap of rubbish
piled unmindful. They splatter
as the wind blows.
“Eh, you man, I cry.
It is you who makes and mars.
Ironical in your presentations
and diabolical in preservation”EhEe.
Meenas Poems 