Common Measure - Poem by Ajay Seshadri
A feeble minded giant lives,
Who cannot spell his doom;
A corner for his whim mind gives,
That must give way to gloom.
For a wish is all that he grants,
A tombstone to breathe in,
Berries in plenty he implants,
The sense of his free sin.
Unstable he is in his moves,
A toddler in physique;
Then sinks in tandem clement blues
To shine he needs a cheek!
I wonder if the Lord is cold
For he who is invoked
Would not suffer a pain retold
Leaving his chum provoked.
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