Kilimanjaro

The snow that won’t fall easily, Only melt inside our stubborn hearts, Our bodies, crashing like meteors, As the thread between us, Becomes a rope holding us tighter, closer, Day after day, and two gold rings Orbiting two ring fingers, As we let the snow in our heart, melt away. The gradients of warmth that…

A Day at The Galle Literary Festival

My wife, a friend of hers, and I spent the day in Galle. Thus, this work came about. On the Southern Expressway, There’s a destination, Galle, Named after the chicken, Gallus gallus, the origins of licken, And finger licking goodness, – What became more popular, than the Kentucky Derby -. And on pages of Dickens…