Where do I leave my footprints,
As I tread barefoot on soft sand?
The debris washed ashore last night,
Some littered by the litterbugs,
I sidestep the ones that lay in a heap,
The sweepers clean as they find them,
Shaking their heads for sure,
Thinking “They would keep their houses clean, litter the public areas,
and demand a clean environment. Even the seas vomit their trash onto the beaches,
Do they not see that the seas hold the treasures of the waters, where food is derived,
where the oysters stay embedded on rocks, and yet still, the undercurrents carry the energy
they need to light up their lives?
The banyan trees shade my walk somewhat,
I look for a place to rest my weary steps,
I find them the ground littered with rubbish, rubbles and what not.
Where do I rest my weary steps as I end my walk?
Where do I sit where no stench of throwaways greet my tired mind?
Have a great weekend everyone. Please read my book and press the like button to vote, “Falling in Love with a North Indian.” A humorous look at Anjalie’s adventure in Trivandrum, her meeting with a handsome North Indian, and what she discovers….
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