Meenas PoemsGradually it grows
not so fast in a way
not so high and tall
stages be its call.
Gradually it flows
not in a rush in a way
not so strong and high
stages in tries.
Gradually it learns
not in a quick way
not so brilliant in part
stages in a sort.
Slow and steady wins the race
goes the maxim in a trace
the process being regular in all
the registration be better in call.
I had a score of friends when I was small.
We played the whole day without a fall.
We played hide and seek in the hall.
We hid behind the big wall
Then came out in a crawl.
I had ten friends when I was an adolescent.
The memory of those days is still nascent.
We shared our feelings ebullient.
We enriched ourselves with references brilliant.
The aroma of that kinship
is effervescent.
As I age my friendship narrows down.
My circle is almost five down.
Mostly I languish alone.
Now I propose a softened tone.
The days of noise are no more known.
Meenas Poems 