shanmugampoem2000
Sunday, 16 March 2014
The mooning.
How much pain, how much strain,
How much time, how much space,
To plough and grow our courtship,
Knowing it would yield raw fruits.
A guava half ripe tastes as good.
The unripe love is more worth
As to the unborn love.
22.12.2000
No comments:
Post a Comment
Newer Post
Older Post
Home
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment