The love for the big
turns an obsession quick
could be termed an aspiration
a progress and an ambition
not so always I think
had me many a time blink
when friends talk of their riches
minding not the time in glitches
a boast of their wealth inappropriate
even at times of loss seem inadequate
how could they delve so deep I wonder
did not the tragedy turn them realistic I ponder
could be to camouflage their grief in a way
I doubt these interpretations in a play
as the snobbishness is interred deep in the heart
it comes not choosing the time in short
the exposition is so bare and raw
perhaps I could dub it as a great flaw.
Meenas Poems 