Into it all the same.
At a distance, a flower is noted by its colour.
Once into it, the purpose of the colour is over.
Only the nectar of the flower matters.
Pleasure is drawn in churning to honey the nectar.
A wise man makes variety from his clay
rather than buying varying makes.
23.05.2001, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Added by Poetry Lover
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