Raveendran N.V. Poems
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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