The tin drums were played
A drizzle slowly trickled
From the sky line dimmed
On the wild flower wreath
And the white paper canopies

The golden palanquin was made
And there, she was quietly laid
Brought then to the grave yard
Our dearest one
Our closest one
The dead doll
Was buried that day

A tear dropp rolled down
on the cheeks of my sister

The bulldozer mammoths came
untamed with the hard-pressed bolts
The old tomb came up
as they wildly dig the earth

There was no golden palanquin
No white paper canopies
But she was there as ages ago
Awaken after a long sleep

The blinking dazzling eyelashes
The sparkling crystal eyes
The twisted golden hair
The lips, painted with smile
The one who never died
The eternal poem
Dear doll, it's only you…

Rathna Sri Wijesinghe