Quoting An Era Poem by muthu veerappan

destined to be changing arenas,
venturing into a new world,
from a pool of common gender,
was all of a high task..

might be though,
but not a dry sand grabbing a little shower..
its the chastity of a pedicel and the flower..

cuturals being the cradle of a new culture..
sure it was dusk, but my eyes shone..
couldn't they miss a glance of you...
if they did, it was only on winking...

heard of the break batch..
it was not the batch that was broken,
but my little heart..

not a word spoken,
never the heart open..
moments were fragrant
and that was frequent..

fine dawn set on, to show the hand in your hand,
it was not mine, for, fate showed its stand..

its not mere attraction. that dies before me..
its not mere love. that dies with me..
its a sculpture, that lives and lives and makes a history...