The Tear On The Jeans Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

The tear on the jeans

I was born in village by mud walls
I loved to sneak and see cracks
Through them could see lot
So cracks attract eyes
Are great; I enjoy
Must confess.

But the tear on the knees
Look cracks, make me think
Are the tears simply mimicking?
Or are they example and the signs of inside?
Do the jeans hold same thing far above?

As poets we were taught "be spies":
"Observe deep, anything to take note."
I look with fallen jaws and track the cracks.