Meenas PoemsI see silver oil lamps
small and artistic
not fitted to a clamp
placed on a small pedestal
burning with a glow
not very bright as of being harsh
soft with a light yellow
steady and steadfast they burn for a while
the divine grace seems to descend
the lamps send out a flame in style
the mellowed gleam invigorates.
A little while ago
saw my friend after ages
resembling something of an ago
frail,thin worn out in stages
She a beauty in her younger days
a lively elegance in every way
with startling looks and sparkling face
was a cynosure of all eyes those days.
Age cannot wither her say some
but age has tarnished her most
with her appearance turned gruesome
but her traits were the same almost.
Looking at her from far away
does not work out well
but in close up sway
she is the same in all tell
Her external would have lost its sheen
eroded by the passage of time
but her mind and thought are clean
acting and interacting in perfect rhyme.
She spoke so sweetly with grace.
Her old charm very much in force
The measured voice being the base
talking and referring from the best
source.
Age has mellowed her to the core
Her beauty also has attained a glow
with the lustre turning into wisdom
she maintains her going in a flow.
Meenas Poems 