Always in our search
for an audience

Down roads
dragging along a stretched out note

So many like us
we meet and part

The notes remain untouched

And when the time comes
at the river
and it’s time to sink the instruments

We will look at them
and would want to play so badly
the final chords

But they would sound hollow
and would sink
very quickly

And we will go much quicker

A stone crafted by moss.

©Malintha Perera 2015

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