𝑾𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒐𝒇 𝑾𝒂𝒊𝒍 ( දුක් ගන්නා රාළ )

The room smelt different  Was it the burning camphor or The oil soaked wick  Dancing in the wind. The windows were left wide open  The morning breeze Trying to snuff and conquer  The naked flame of the oil lamp. The House was lit up  Too bright and Too crowded  For that times of the day. The faint sobbing  Ebbing from some corner Hurried steps down the corridors  Speaking only in Hushed voices Added more uneasiness to the air  Then. She looked calm and blissful  Sleeping pretty and relieved I knew instantly  She would never to come back again to us ever But why I had no tears to shed then.