Sri Lanka

She sits perched on her mountain tops,
Waterfalls through her hair,
She is a golden maiden of placid seas,
Dolphins birthing through her mane,
She is in the smile of the people,
The sweet language of her ancestors,
She is in the shining ruins,
The dusky dawn that never settles,
Her footsteps ring in the tea plantations,
Her laugh echoes through her temples,
Her gods are not man made,
She is a abode of mingling cultures,
If you see her sleep through the tranquil nights,
Where peacocks sing for courtship,
Or you see her wake on brilliant days,
Playing with the herds of wild elephants and monkeys,
You will feel,
Unlike anything.

© soulreserve 2015

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