Poem By nimal dunuhinga
An old man; hunchback
He was carrying some firewood's
And he is passing the old graveyard towards his cottage.
He said that he heard a dialogue
Between the child who was buried yesterday
And the oldest tomb was in the cemetery.
New Grave: Grandpa is you still living?
I hear your breathing.
Old Grave: My son I learned to breathe here.
The world is full of puff,