Sunday, May 16, 2010


This is a poem that my f-i-l composed today (May 16, 2010) at about 7 p.m. (IST)


All the people were concerned
about his ill health
And they just visited
one by one
according to their convenience.

The pity is one said,
"You don't worry. Everything
will be alright."
The other one said,
"He'll be cured in two or three days."
Another one said,
"Because I have come, you'll get sleep;
don't worry."

All these things
I finally found out
were only a "formality blessing"!

by L.V. Raghavan
(88 years old young)

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