I Am Polish Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

I am polish

One could see crow’s feet on her soft, white skin
No such thing in her eyes, small lakes; pristine.

She read book, a Kindle: “It is nice, I have read.”
Liked to know why repeat, reading it once again.

I found out, was novel, Sidney Sheldon its author,
Paper print published in years ago; Master of the Game.

Willingly she told me story as if a lullaby to the child
I listened camel-like drinking desert’s pond for a walk.

As are all, she was kind, very nice; the core to stories
“Long before I lived in Kazakhstan, but I am a polish.”

Everyone is alive, nice, lovely and very kind;
If approached proper, not just to exploit for a want;
Treat all with love and make trust;
Do not sit away and rush to judge.