Five Thirty

a poem by Anup S Mudugal

The scorching sun is about to
Depart to make way for cool evening
Returning home are some
To meet loved ones.
Happy are people to end another day
Achieving what so ever possible.
Getting ready are some
For their work at night fall.
Happy are some to kill the
Journey of agony and hatredness.
But here I am standing and gazing
At the tower.
Many may be happy, but we
Have wasted yet another day.
In hatredness, bribery and anger
In producing nuclear weapons
Wake up, Its high time, save
Our Mother, its now or never.