I find them in a corner
of
the dusty drawer
Parchments
that tell the tales
the
history of hearts
Dead
dreams and deeds live there
And speak of magic days
Their crystal pools scattered moonlight
on the walls of our young souls
The voices are gone
only echoes on page
I dare not read them
dare not memory's lash
History closes its own chapters.
- Copyright © Sandaruwan Madduma Bandara
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