To a dewy morning still fresh from the night that was, untouched by the day to be… Around the chatter heard at the tea kadi round the corner… through the fragrance of the fresh flowers set up by the florist…to the bus waiting by the still empty road.
To a window streaked with rain drops, rushing down like glittering streams in reflected street lights at night. To the steam from the tea cup on this side of glass pane. To the fingers that trace that one name on the pane…
To the unbridled joy followed by laughter at finally lighting one “thanuthu pona” flower pot, on a still wet from rain October morning.