If I Grow Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

If I grow

Squat and thoughtful
-sat a child; not yet teen.

Wood was burned
-the remain, ash, ember.

He picked up a stick
-gave it shape as stirred!
-he draw on ground, a painting.

Visible the flames
-childish and too little
-similar to the boy, his own shape.

Raced in field of his mind
-rosary of questions: "How is it? "
-and reply: "As you see it being! "

Sparkles were hardly visible!

He stirred!
And stirred!
And stirred!

Fixed his eyes and looked on
-to left, right and sky…

Spacious, universe
-very large.

"And what if? "
-ran in him; fluid.

Then thunder and flood
-
-with havoc of drought
-

In the world of his mind:
- "If ever I grow…"
-and stirred with stick! ! !