Sitting in her room on Christmas eve By R.Krishnamurthy
Sitting in her room on Christmas eve
It was her first ever to be alone without a relative
A spinster she was, a school teacher
Then there was a knock on the door
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A memory of Gandipeta By R.Krishnamurthy
How sweet used to be the water
How fresh it was even in summer
It would stir your appetite like a tonic
You wouldn’t have to visit a clinic
Banana By R.Krishnamurthy
Banana is a poor man’s fruit
It is his breakfast or supper
A desert after lunch like a sweet
Available in summer and winter
My lover’s wedding card by R.Krishnamurthy
How you liked me I don’t know
Being poor, there was nothing to show
I didn’t try to steal your heart
It’s beyond me to play a trick of that sort
A doctor By R.Krishnamurthy
If you watched an old movie
Or if you heard an old story
There would be a doctor
More famous than an actor
