These things we hate

I cringe at the thought of filth
Dirty hands and dirty hearts
Fingers probing through dry noses in harmattan
Eyes that scan lives to haunt with questions
Nay sayers and the cloud of doubt they cast
Those who fart for fun without decorum
Those who touch to seek attention
Ill-mannered pranks and lowly jokes
Screeching sounds and loud noises
I know this is not too much to ask.

Vera