We had laid out a green table
As vast as the crimson of the field's poppies
Which, with the yearning of the soil
Sprout once more
In this land
Time after time
With the rhythm of time's pulse
We sat in wait
To call upon the newness of the pure year
Light-hearted
To invite it into our home
And plant within our hearts
The joy of a day's dream
The sky was damp
And your eyes
And the light rain
That drizzled on the acacia's branches
To turn the leaden hues of winter
Pale with the blossom's garment
The air
Spoke of the city's cold
And of a wandering shadow
Searching for a familiar word
In the soil
Where still
There was no trace of your steps
And surely
It never truly belonged to you
We had set no adornments
Yet the glimmer of white dawn
On the flowing skirt of spring
Was something
We once had seen in dreams
Arsalan – Tehran
(March 27, 2022)
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