Born when ancient ice began to weep,
Finding it hard beneath the warming sun,
I slipped down through slopes that gleam —
A soft beginning to my long journey.
My story rose from my poet’s dreamy tongue,
Making me a person in this artificial world.
I wandered through valleys, quiet and wide,
Carving soft paths that hills tend to hide.
The laughter of children once danced by my side,
And wildflowers bloomed where I used to glide.
Things began to fade, and I did too —
Cities rose, holding my story lost.
ARUN KUMAR M
Check out the link below for my Tamil poems
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