Talent Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

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A mother in desert, open arms, wishing to hug the long lost son
Opened wings on the sides, it seems like a fighter head forward
Wind blows all the clouds in speed, Short-sky. Strong is the gust
Toronto in April, disgusting spring, wheels struggle, road is silent
She pushes hard, each step of forward faces with, tens backward
Then somehow comes along idea, change in shape, wings closed
She is a bullet, all the birds are smart. Many eyes watch the flight
You look up in wonder, who is who, where is where, what is what!