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K Balachandran Sep 2014
"A poem written by a drunken poet
**** inebriated by beauty so rare
and thought his words would be
immortal but did lack coherence"
on seeing her for a while, he gathered
"This beauty sure has a raw appeal,
but needs someone, patient and deft
with  experience to polish and edit,
to bring out her true effulgence"

She was watching him keenly in silence
Are hearts capable of exchanging notes?
Her eyes shone as if she read his thoughts
"A rough stone, precious, am I,  found out
from a distant mine, no definite shape or
remarkable shine, no one tried ever to cut it
and chisel fine,  so that light 'll reflect from all faces
carets not clearly known, will you take it in your hands
and consider it as thine, lavish your love on it
and reveal the hidden beauty, that's ravishing
born out of sedimented carbon,soot laden on outer layer"
her eyes spoke to him in silence, and he smiled.

— The End —