Raveendran N.V. Poems
Each dropp of rain
Longs to reach the core
Each mountain spring
Yearns to reach the nest
What is their end?
Who is it that attracts them?
The ocean has a womb
Where awaits the core, the nest
The soul of the drop.
Too busy to think about myself I used to stand
From morning till evening, sentry,
Between sleeplessness and armed excursions,
Where it was too hot during the day- time,
But when enough green and youth and keen eyes
And something inborn was there to keep
Me a dreamer nearly happy.
The sun had just mounted to burn out the day