It is an endless wait
would have to bear it
for how many years
I do not know
it is going to go down
the generations in all
we being the first
pass on to our children
then to the grandchildren
from a voluminous form
it shrinks into a paltry
finally turns to nothing
is it the destiny ?
one has to remain with hands tied
spreading out involves money
most times the expenditure
turns not fruitful and worthy
becomes a tedium in years
a withdrawal descends
we like to abandon the whole
walk away with an empty hand.
Meenas Poems 