Weed Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

Weed

My friend has permit
Plants and grows weed.

Drove far to meet him
Before I move out, leave.

Sat in the open, yard
And spoke of old times.

Remembered professors
And some of classmates.

The air was nice, fresh
And smelled like village.

Melancholy, nostalgic
Remembered me as kid.

Different were the roads
And people, walls, and homes.

In village "New Year"
Meant Gandom, Shahdooneh.

The ladies roasted the
Clean wheat and the hemp.

Then they filled our pockets,
We chewed and enjoyed them.

In cities, the victim
Is nature, killed or caged.

Stink the cars, trains
With cousin, aeroplanes.

Want to ride my donkey,
When tired, talk with it.

Freedom was for all
Even pets that could hunt.