There comes a time when my frustration scales
On seeing the heap of trash that smoothly trail
Along with me, in my about to explode handbag,
So much unwanted stuff, no time to clean, compelled to drag.
So I start to sort the trash,
Packets, bills, tickets and sparse cash.
Some balm, some cream, a few toffees and their wrappers,
Among them some folded, some crumpled skinny papers.
These skinny fluttering papers catch my attention.
Leaflets and pamphlets distributed mostly at the stations.
Economic use of words, message meant for thousands unknown,
Flying hand to hand, miles and miles, free to roam.
Some offer prompt consolation
To fix broken hearts, broken home, broken luck, broken hope.
To undo destiny’s doing,
Against a hefty, secret donation; at some shady location.
Some are fervent calls for charity, to light up human darkness
Of the diseased, despaired, or orphaned lives
And give back lost smiles from their vulnerable existence.
Others propagate general matters of utility
Supermarkets and malls mushrooming in the concrete city
Tourist discounts, prospective colleges, computer courses and public speaking
Zumba, Tai –Chi, yoga and marketing similar new- age devices for slimming.
So much information buried in the depths of my bag,
Unacknowledged, unread, unused, sadly dumped into the dustbin sack.