The nature curtails the growth.

Enough is there moisture;
So do sprout all seeds.
Enough is there scorch;
So do dry out all seeds.
Enough is there luster
For sexual love to spark.
Enough is there vigilence
To wet the spark to death.

Sscandals are at check.
07.05.2004

poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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