Love; S Scarissweet
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Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Those days I would go past that house,
Where lived the girl, my maiden love,
Not more in the hope of sighting her
Than for the pleasure that I got
When I felt she was there inside.
That day I went to see the house,
Where was she no more as married,
Not for the purpose of seeing her
But from the sentimental urge
To see the house where she lived once
And where we exchanged our love.
The scar of love is always sweet.
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