Why is her smile

An aphyllous tree,

A girl who pulls up

The sides of her dress?


I can't paint her love

On her rough surface,

With the corners of her lips

Held up with needles


Why are her eyes

Pools of emptiness,

A nameless river

Drown in a youthful body?


Why is her sun

Hiding behind the moon

Silent of stolen stars

In her heliocentric dream?


I can't hold her hands

When she turns into smoke

And circles in thin air

A ghost who dances alone


Why does her gaze

Linger on along the stumps

Of chopped off willows

On the promenade of life?


I water her aphyllous tree

And wait for blossoms

To grow and give birth

To all fish in empty pools


I pray for her sun to shine

Upon her hands and eyes

At a soirée dansante of willows

Kissed by the soft breeze of love


From “Persian Pomegranates- A Young Poet's Soliloquy”

* See TinaEhrami.com
* Visit TinaEhrami.blogspot.com


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