Up till now, it just keeps on raining
I guess this is how it feels when you are waiting
Just stare at the rain and keep on counting
Tick tock on the clock and wait for something

The rhythm of the pouring rain just keeps on playing
out in the open, I'll take you dancing
Let's take it slow and enjoy the feeling
The bass of the melody will be my heart beating

i'm taking a class on persian poetry
i don't speak persian-
my taste in poetry has always been
more bukowski than rumi
a little too western, a little too crude

but then there's you
with poetry flowing
at the tips of your fingers
and the edges of your heart
you read poetry
as if it were the bible
making every word
sound holy and every
sentence more scripture
than art
and when you recite
it's like thunder
and ice
it's fire with
just enough passion
to burn for centuries

you're the hafiz
to my plath
and i never quite understood
your language but
i loved it any way
and i tried to speak
it but my words were
always
too western, too crude
and yours

yours like a burning candle
in the middle of winter
it's a small light
but enough to keep me warm
and the darker the night
the cooler the weather
the warmer the flame
that burns bright

you were my ferdowsi
and khyyam
and i was still somewhere
between woolf and
dickinson
their worlds made sense
to me more than
persian passions
that i always wanted
could almost taste
but never swallow
but you feasted

i'm taking a class on persian poetry
i don't speak persian-
*but it brings me one step
closer
to you.

I dream of you
I dream of rolling over into your warmth before the sun rises
biting on your lip while I pull at the collar of your shirt

I dream of a little girl
I dream of braiding her hair every day to "be like mommy"
watching her grow and carry my strength
but mostly your tenderness

I dream of bus 17
I dream of the first moment my eyes met yours
I dream of our forever

I dream of being the perfect version of me
I dream of my wandering heart settling into yours
I dream of us
I dream of you

Why must we hurt?
Without reason
Why must we suffer?
Without knowing
Why must life be so cold?
People come
People go
Emotion lingers but soon fades
Why must we use false hope that cut like blades?
We know that we won't always understand
And yet it still burns inside
We rush emotion as if it had a timer
When really it's like a fine wine
The longer time it's given to process the better the outcome is
But I guess it's life
We must suffer
To find reason
We must hurt
To know
We must be cold
To feel the sun
This is life and it's not always fun

I hear a wind whispering from the hills
It comes down tickling the woodland rills
From far is heard the frightened murmur of leaves
As it pounces on them like wayside thieves

It shakes the branches of flowering trees
And their weak petals drop like confetti in the breeze
Over hills and trees it loves to skip and stray
Always in motion, never inclined to stay

It moves unhampered over streams and field
With no resistance to its might, they simply yield
Like a child, it romps over the sloppy meadows
In its gentle touch, dances the gleeful flowers

It skillfully pleats the blue chiffon of the ocean
Sometimes curling waves in electric motion
Over the sea it runs puffing up the sails
And over the sky heaping clouds in bales

Sometimes it steals furtively like a lover
And disappears kissing our cheeks under cover
Often it comes capering with a lilt and a swing
We feel delighted when we hear its merry song

Like a nomad, the wind roams from place to place,
Hiding its mysterious presence from our glance
From an unknown hide out it comes like a spirit
But always making us feel its vigorous might!

At times it gains force and roars like a beast
Felling trees and wreaking havoc with its twist
In rampage, it sweeps the sea and the ground
Triggering sparks of fear and horror all around