The Old Are The Waste Cotton
As cotton, I was dear to the farmer,
by Rm.Shanmugam Chettiar.
And then to the spinner. Becoming yarn,
To the weaver and as cloth to the wuser
I was dear in care for the rest of time.
Worn out, I was sent to be as waste cotton.
Torn out, I was thrown to disintegrate.
As old, everyone would be thrown out..