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Where birdsong beckon a new day's dawn

And faint naked footsteps stain unkempt floors

When old pots rattle and tea mugs are poured

Dust laden windows but languidly yawn

Where sweet sticky rice and jaggery tastes divine

Bananas overripe entice passing flies

A cacophony of stories and laughter combine

With more sips of tea over the Sunday Times

Where grey clouds cry their rain heavy eyes

And monsoon's flames light the bellowing skies

Where mute birds wait in the jasmine vines

As dark miry waters down tired hills decline

Hissing oil in pans and smoke fired eyes

Ants in the treacle and treats stacked in piles

Love served with smiles and awakened old ties

It's where my heart lies this sweet home of mine


© Kamalika Jayathilaka 2014

The Old Stately House

The old stately house on the rolling hills

With its walls of sadness roof of thrills

Stood solemnly still in the northerly wind

That swept away its owners’ sins

The cold stone floors now old and faded

Cracked and mostly housed the rodents 

The windows creaked and doors they pleaded

To lonesome spirits that often retreated   

Old torn pictures in a cardboard box

Blended old memories grey from the dust

Nameless faces and faceless frames

Hung from walls that once saw fame

The old stately house of a hundred years

They say it birthed a million fears

And melted down a river of tears

That gave it names that hardly cleared

The house of fears muffled in shames

One cold night engulfed in flames

Took tears, secrets, all it contained  

They say its glow lit vast terrains

© Kamalika Jayathilaka