Rag Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

Rag

I guess that rag is name
That is what I am called
In a desert, on the sands
I am old silk worn pride
On the body of princess
And many softly brides
And bodies of nymphets

I think that I am the rag,
Name I hear being called
I am a toy for fast winds
I am taken by the breeze
Shelter I am to a scorpion
Rats biting take my piece
And snake fights for me
I am sad rag and old silk

I guess that rag is name
It is what they have said
In desert night’s so cold
Day burns and peels skin
A mirage is; everywhere
I am a rag; some old silk