One Enduring Wish! Poem by Navod Jayasuriya

I walked at ease in the mild serein,
In morn I went there,
Was a rebarbative jiffy,
And tedious as well.

Finding onerous to stay there,
I ruminated over the tiresome weather,
And slightly concluded descrying the smoother,
Of those I loved most were the wonderful heathers.

Over the dales, through the briars,
I wandered to inspect the truth,
For which I heard the scandalized,
Scandalous prediction of a scandal-monger.

I then had a perpetual recall,
Imbued with feelings of love,
For love which I adored of most,
Could it be the one I am looking for now?

It was joyous, rollicking plenty of time,
Still in memory the frolicsome lambs,
I amongst them, played by the shore,
Every eventide of every and each day.

Echoed the raising voice of cassandra's words,
Those which were hoarsely sounds spilled that out,
Unceasingly it echoed now and then,
Making each moment a deteriorated,
perplexing states of horrible shambles.

Inquiries informed me the place she dwelt,
Stick on instructions, I followed the directions,
Instead of strolling there,
I darted impatiently,
Over the lofty hills where,
lilliputian lily of the valley used to grow.

Concealed in a hedge,
I found it at last,
A hedge full of glamorous flora,
Which weren't simulacra resembling each other.

And of course with butterflies of captivating arts,
Like in modern fashions of groovy styles,
Fluttered as the sparkling and dazzling,
glitters of flashes.

Her home was quite pretty,
Surrounded by many others, and she has friends,
Neighbours by her house,
And she feels no lone,
Just like she used to be,
High in contact.

I feel I now am gulped,
By the lonesome, humdrum moments,
But I'm not a loner,
And I detest the rut.

Raised high above her home,
Was a tombstone made of blocks of stone,
Which was molded being half-arsed,
Creating a monotonous vision without the sense of art.

Not in high proud,
And not as the others,
And others were lofty disdains,
Showing the worthiness and more of haughty.

For her impeccable moral values,
And for her simple dwelling,
Apart from a comfier life,
Merely she should have deserved the praise,
The honour and the due reverence for her grace.

I being thoroughly wondered,
And asked for only one enduring wish,
For which, she were alive,
And we were young,
Just as the old times,
there we garnered and played,
On dunes brimful of heathers,
And on tussocks, in untrammelled woods.

And not keeping her at arms's length,
But need to get bound in with love,
A true love which evermore straddles,
This old man craves merely for one enduring wish!