The Belated Joy

Of the lot, Preetha was the youngest,
The fairest, the most dignified.
Now I heard she had had liking for me.
I wish I knew it ere I left the arena.

We go ignorant of the love
Someone has nurtured for us,
And leaving the pavilion,
We feel loss when we learnt of it.

poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!