Trustee Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

Trustee

She is thin, a Chinese
-grey hair; is knocking
-door to door, canvasing.

Looks at me when coming
-and speaks Mandarin!

Throws in few words
- "My son", "Teacher, "
-and hands me the papers.

I take them and thank her
-recalling son-mother;
-a murder for the sake of lover.
-On the run he falls and mother's heart:
- "Tell me son, are you OK? "

Her son is a teacher
-teaches math, speaks math.

Every note on paper
-is boring; as is math!

But behind and in depth
-lives a heart, an honest.

Wants to be ‘Trustee"
-in School and Teaching.

Unlike the very rich
-who spend plenty
-of what have embezzled
-or lied, tax-evaded
-to enter dirty games,
-he relies on mother.

I would vote if I could
I love scenes behind this.

Want to go, give speech
- "Help love rule, politics."