The Old Are The Waste Cotton Poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
The Old Are The Waste Cotton
As cotton, I was dear to the farmer,
And then to the spinner. Becoming yarn,
To the weaver and as cloth to the wuser
I was dear in care for the rest of time.
Worn out, I was sent to be as waste cotton.
Torn out, I was thrown to disintegrate.
As old, everyone would be thrown out..
13.10.2012
Thursday, October 25, 2012
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8/29/2026 6:43:39 PM # rel_20260827T145718Z_a0f1bd3
at least we can decay and eliminate ourselves as not being a nuisance as the polymers! a thought provoking poem!