Love on you is never ending, my heart sings a rhythm for you
Your sharpened voice tunes something different, my favourite
Your hands running in a room, my all time favourite
Oh I know I’m not loving your beauty
But I’m loving your heart
Weathering cigar from your mouth, gifts me a couple of stories
Your face shines with words
But your face seems like struggling from something

Oh, I know it’s because you are a writer
By age, you are a father to me
But you are my love in writing
Recollecting your history is too nice
You are so sweet by your writing beauty my dear writer…

(On Murali Gopy, the Malayalam writer)