Home sweet home, where I grew up,
Nestled beside a park,
where we would frequently go,
to slide down the matslide,
Go up on the swing,
Balance on the see-saw,
Play Hide and seek.
Our open verandah enclosed on one side,
By a sweet-smelling honey-suckle creeper
Running by the parapet wall.
Two stately Pine trees
Like two sentinels, stood on the lawn.
The garden well laid out,
A pathway gravelled strong,
With flowers on either side, right along.
The bearing Jambu tree was behind.
Memory recalls the rooms, the wooden wall clock,
The curtained windows with a view of the park,
The green gate, four poster bed,
Hat-stand and “what-not”.
The well trimmed hedge by a wall replaced,
The garden now has little space,
But, there still remains, in the modernised house,
The same brass, House number plate,
Above the old door frame.
- Rupa Wijesinghe