ചാരുദത്തന്‍റെ സ്വകാര്യങ്ങള്‍

He outstretched his arms and told me, " I know her.This is the creation of your imagination. But where's the other one?" Sadness, spreadeagled like a wall between our gardens. My sheep are not back from the green pastures. Child is still asleep. I'm on the last line of my poem, short of a word. She stood behind me, veiling her face with a smile, Being my root, like a flower opted to be disdained. "Give me an ear, I shall give you a word." And I replied, "She's infallible and not visible!"