A Day More
Nothing happens here
By default, and everything has a creator…
Then who is to blame
For your sleepless night
Full of restless yaps from the monstrous mongrels?
Who orchestrates the ear-splitting jangles
Next to your doorstep, in an hour of quiet
Killing your comfort, poise and pleasure?
Who spews out the obnoxious wastes
Just above your rooftop, to make you inhale
Those lethal fumes in a cool promising morn?
Who sends the swarms of insects
Hungry, venomous, revengeful and stinking
To wantonly perforate your somnolent skin?
Who dumps those cancerous refuse
At your backyard, stealthily and copiously
And goes scot-free during those loose hours of night?
The day dawns in an old world
Gaining in height of yesterday's trash hill
And you and I lose stature in life
And still live on a day more.
A. N. Nanda