One of a day
without events ,
a kind of a drab,
I see the skies.
They look different,
the bluish tinge
is lost it is dirty brown,
expresses no moves.
Being a rare
phenomenon, I squeeze
my eyes , ponder deep.
scan through the vastness.
Unable to trace
any life factor,
I go through the
weather bulletins.
It reads,there prevails,
a haze. The smoke
from the neighbouring
country encircles.
The way it goes ,
none can stop
either means
by weapons or bilateral talks.
Meenas Poems 