Terms with Loss

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(Written on the Thel Baemma, near the A.T, Peradeniya, 2004-10-25. Recovered from among some old notes).

Breezes across my moody blue
And as I sit alone on this
wall of stone
To keep me pace
This eve of gloom, comes
A scene past — of you, now gone.

People trickle by, the road is bare,
These premises mind no
Change in time;
I recall each slide, you drop me
The first day here,
Kind of touched my head; love out of rhyme.

Looks nostalgic now, waste,
Gone with the wind,
How you patrolled twice
The car before you left me
(For the time being) amidst
Those sweet raggers nice.

Once you came to pick me
After some session, so that I
Could promptly go
To CTB’s wedding; it is from here
You picked me up. I sit.
The pictures flow.

Lonely, cruel, gloomy day,
I sit here, now, take your picture
Out my purse, I stare
And I care less for
Though tears may drop,
There’s no point because you’re no longer there.

Why am I here, you’re gone:
Is it more, or mere
That you were born first?
Fucking Fate, could there be
More to your ‘mercy’:
Quenching off my tears your bloody thirst?

Walks up, Hekala, up the stair,
Asks me why
I am lost and alone.
Ask that from a rafter capsized at sea
Doing the Mediterranean
With his tack sails torn.



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