A leaf that sprouted on the bare arms of the purple tree
Was not alone
It found a companion in a blossom
That with the white wings of a bird
Played the game of love
The flowing soul of the river
Was never alone
It slipped over the patterned slopes of the valley
To soothe the restless body
With the thirst of the plains
Even the raindrop that fell to the earth
Was not alone
It had roots in a cloud
That had nestled deep
Within the gaze of your eyes
But the emptiness of the house
Brings a lump to the throat
And the image of your presence
Is painted only
On the canvas of imagination
Arsalan – Tehran
May 21, 2024
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