Cotyledons I
The last wish of the poor mother:
Son, don’t spend to cure my illness.
Reserve it to rear your children.
Let me die as cotyledons do.
28.07.2009
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar

Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The last wish of the poor mother:
Son, don’t spend to cure my illness.
Reserve it to rear your children.
Let me die as cotyledons do.
28.07.2009
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar

Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!