Saturday, 19 November 2011


These pinks from long ago
so fresh, so ancient,
brings back a day,
a month, a year
February 22, 1987.
Today, a bouquet for love's innocence
but for me,
a funeral wreath.
Twenty one years
is nothing for the sun
for me, a century;
a time that the colours of Peradeniya
will not let me forget.

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