Valet Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

Valet



Valet

Came over like always.

His skin dark-black; in heart though is cloud.

He too is immigrant; not like me, African.

“His last day; on his way he stopped and whispered.”

He tells me of a past; of a man who gave him a valet…

Story grows rich as if seed “It was to plant love.”

And he talks in Timmy; on table his coffee.

“Greenback is long gone; his valet a Bible, a Koran.”

Passenger went to Rome; Sheba’s man, there remained.

“Thankful he of my help, I’m thankful for his care.”

People come, people go. He’s talking, coffee’s cold.

I lift hand to wipe out; tearful are my eyes.

“Where are they, the good-days; love given, cheap as hay.”

Timmy’s filled with the youths; unaware of past’s good.

“We can be, ” he goes on “human, as we must.”

I write part, ask for rest, he notes down:
“A. V. Reconosimente”
It must mean “ai nostri ricordi comuni”

With his words also mine; and knowing
“The man’s wife, Egyptian; sister of…
The Ghali, UN’s chief, Sec-General”

I’m writing; I’m obliged:
“Love is seed; must be sown.”

Monday, March 2, 2015
Topic(s) of this poem: human nature
POET'S NOTES ABOUT THE POEM
An Ethiopian friend's memory of his Italian boss 'He left a valet with all the money' (USD 1700, as a token of appreciation) and...
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