Missing

Missing an old soul
who draped herself with apparel so new
bright and costly
and concealed her warmth
under new shades of fondness
much felt toward mere strangers
That fountain of love,
now a dying puddle at her feet
The steel fetters of bondage
thinned into strings,
loose thread
Aching for the halcyon dawns
a togetherness much longed for
I’m missing her old soul
I’m missing her, I’m missing her, I’m missing her

Copyrights © Senali Perera 2014