The last cry
My poem is, as always
an observation, inspiration
...
Between the lines
Years ago, I was in business
I kept eyes and ears open to learn,
...
Love grows if well-fed.
Eight white lines, stripe
And they walked to cross
...
Cold shower
It is now three days
That cold are water pipes
...
Of not said
Iranian by my birth
My heart is everywhere.
...
Final breath
Stood there as if rock
Silent, watched
...