The Lost Paradise

It was a spring
Early in the morning
A bird on the wing
Old lonely men were smoking and drinking
Past days remembering.
Day time I did nothing
Only reading
What else I had to do?
Except smoking and drinking.
I hear a lullaby
From far away
A sweet peculiar voice
Somewhere on the hills
Remembering my youth.
Oh! how I dreamed of her
Lost as a wounded soldier
The battle was over
We departed forever.
Oh! how I missed her
For my own fault
Still I can remember what she told.

poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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