Every house has a cupboard
when thrown open skeletons jump.
which look mysterious,
when poked, tell tales
disastrous.
Every house has steps
some have very few,
most too many, Each step talks
high and low of happenings
which stumbles on a concern.
Every house has walls
made of bricks and mortar.
They echo happiness and grief
stand testimony to the embrace
with love and fights with fury.
–
Meenas Poems 