A consonant of a pallid soul
When I touch the scars of last year's wounds
Really I get a consolation,
And I think of the next year approaches very soon
Without an invitation?
Those wounds were healed by the nature
But the new winds who knows?
May pierce and reunite to make them fresh.
I touch the lonely heart with my palpitate palm
And feel a different beat,
But I cannot change my sorrowful song friend,
Though you provide a pleasant music
Because it's my panache.
* The unseaworthy Soulship must be rigged properly to the Windswept.
[ A diary from the Seabed]
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Added by Poetry Lover
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