Waning, Waxing, and Not Dyeing.

Dear, you are the lot
I most misunderstood.
Sometimes you wane,
Sometimes you wax,
And when it is so, you intrigue.
I came there in abandonment,
Grown over your lukewarm gesture
But you greeted me with open arms,
In absence of known friends..
Yes, though away, I ripple you.
It is more than an embrace.
11.10.2001, Mannarghat.

poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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