I pass a tree, once lush and green
I laughed and leaped once ever teen
We talk a street where no one weeps
Shell jarred bone fresh; dug near deep.
Palmyrah of peace, her toddy wilder
Bringing mirth, that borrowed silver
Art of leaves, uncovered me thinks
Craft of peace, now flushing pink.
Cream of Ice and Crabs of Curry
North of rise, her roads unhurried
Gun built house, their service smart
Yet wonder she, discontented pout.
Dark blue the clear, starring bright
She feels so dear, I deeply sigh
A home for me, to tread and wonder;
Or walk at ease, to live not ponder?
Engraved are her memories, every time. Jaffna :) Writing inspired by a waking morn and some interesting back of the van chatter 03.08.12Harith de Mel