In the midst of sand,
The war of bucket was fought.
Where the lights flowed,
The fight of the balloons was sought.
Would tomorrow be a despair?
For my children to be born,
Or maybe for me too,
At a wrinkled age?
Future is said to be unseen,
But, the dried well ness says,
There would be chaos for a drop,
Where now, the flow is ignorant.
How to destroy the wall of ignorance!
May be it can start with “I”,
And extend to the surroundings,
Only for the better of my children.