Wandering clouds inside
When all alone I ride
An up-thumb blocks my way.
Could he be a thief?
An innocent might he be.
So what?
Where to drop -
The bare minimum to be talked.
With someone sitting behind
Thinking aloud is to be perturbed.
Lost amidst the Clouds
I drove past
With no compulsive reasons to stop.
This Non-stop ride
might at any moment
Drop the driver on the road
Thumbing -up for a ride.
Candy in my mouth
Wrapper between my fingers
I was walking on the corridor.
The floors are clean and tidy
Dropped is trash.
What would be brushed
If Nothing is littered ?
In a moment of
No Guilt
No Rationalisation
It was dropped.