The River Poem by Indira Renganathan
The River
a Moon light falls on her
Silver ripples make her dream
Obsessed with her own beauty
Like a youthful lass
b She's meandering
Bruised by hits on rough rocks
Of good will she runs composed
Like a homemaker
c We know her birth place
But merged with ocean she's gone
She's brine now to serve her folks
Like a homemaker
Four line Haiku 5,7,7,5
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8/29/2026 4:42:50 AM # rel_20260827T145718Z_a0f1bd3
