Senses in one are unequal.

You are with five senses
to guard you and to lead you,
some strong, some weak;
Gene and psyche are at work.
I am hungry by eyes and ears.
My lips are always dry
to get wet by women’s skin.
My other senses are undemanding.
17.04.2001, Pmdi

poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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