Bandula Fernando
After the Rain
The rain ended before dawn,
leaving silver drops on every leaf.
The garden looked different somehow,
washed clean but carrying traces
of the storm that passed through.
That is how sorrow feels at times,
not a thunderclap,
but the quiet afterward.
I walk among ordinary things:
the fence, the flowers, the path.
Each one holds a memory,
gentle and persistent.
Loss has changed the landscape,
yet beauty continues to grow here.
New blossoms open beside old roots.
The heart learns this slowly:
what is gone may be missed forever,
and still life can bloom again.
Forever will be missed
