Clearing the debris from the land
turns a chore .
Once I remove, I find
more the next day.
Where do they come from?
I think aloud,
as it goes on increasing
day by day.
One bin the day before
multiplies by threes
I like to catch the one
red handed.
Knowing for sure
who would have done?
I control my anger
more so my anguish.
The person who does
has a mind
filled with venom
and a heart
full of envy.
I smile to myself,
Well, that is what
he is made of?
Meenas Poems 