When Not Renewed, It Is Doomed. Poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar

The money I spent on the phone call
could have bought me six packets of cigarettes.
But her voice, ridden with love, fills
My heart full. I have no regrets.
By her words I could see her.
By her tone I could feel her.
A debt not demanded,
and a crop not attended
are lost for ever. So is the love.
Let her calve for one;
For me let her milk.

She has, thus far, not yielded fruit.
She is not barren. She still merits.
22.04.2001, Pmdi