A wilted death
Rain gluts the thirsty roots.
Flies glut the lizards’ hunger.
Man’s life gluts his death when
He has enough, enough women
To woo, court and conquer..
Otherwise it is a wilted death.
25.05.2000, Palakkad
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
No comments until now.