Ivory Tower

A Goddess rests with her harp.
The distance music and I hear her strumming.
Yet I am for a long way and stagnant.
I feel the time is walking and somebody is waving.
Days, Months and Years passed.
Hero is old, broken heart and hard of hearing.
But still she is strumming and never gets old.

poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!