சின்னப்பயல் கவிதைகள்

Rain drops running along the window rods would remind us abacus. The drops fighting the gravitation would finally succumb. No child would miss a chance to wipe the pearls. Rain is a ceaseless wonder whatever form it presents to us.
Coins carry the smell of the childhood era. The balance coins mother stored in the provisions box is the reserve and the guilt of taking away the vital savings robs the smell and taste of the candy purchased out of such treasure.
Poems transport me to the pristine past.

மனதைத் தொடும் எளிமையான வரிகள்