Brief Conversation - Poem by Nassy Fesharaki
I stood in open
watched flakes in the air
one landed on my nose.
Both my eyes turned, converged
And we talked.
“Won’t clean, ” I said and…
“And why not? ” came question…
“Want to see…” I murmured
“My life? Death? ” it questioned.
Then I felt; no words said
“Why not give? Why not help before death…”
When I looked water was, not flake.
It was dead.
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The Road Not Taken
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I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You