Renewed For The Worst Poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar

A tendril you were,
So slim, so soft,
With frame like a crane,
At your two and thirty,
Ago years two and ten.
A princess ran in you.

A lush shoot you are,
So stern, so sturdy,
With shape like a horse,
When I again see you,
At your four and forty.
A queen runs in you.

Then I wanted to hug.
Now I want to lean.
You have grown charmer.
I have grown warmer.
However, you prefer to be cold.
I wish I saw you no more,
Proud Shoba Rani.
22.09.2001, Tvm