Let Me Have Your Old Figure

You don’t look as you did eighteen months back.
Gold nose spin gave way for a white stone.
The cheeks flat, hair shorter and sparse.
Neck chain up to chest, instead of up to naval.
Lustre not as shining as before.
Who is there to keep you romantic in my absence?

poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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