In a rush and dash,
you left the bustling and thoroughly coursed New York streets,
paved smooth by the administrators of your newly proclaimed home.
There I stood,
as I watched the Lyft carry you north,
as if on a cloud,
away from me.
And here, I find myself:
having left behind the sun and surf and sandy roads of my home,
which seemed so narrow but always felt a place rich with possibility.
Having left behind too, the parochial, working-class life of my forebearers, in search of something more.
In a city, foreign and yet familiar to us both,
we caught a glimpse of one another on a chilly night in November,
that sweet, sweet November.
Miles from the places we used to call home, Tehran, Bloomington, Boston, Philly... Nashville, Tampa, Chicago, New Brunswick,  
gone are the comforts of our mothers' kitchens and fathers' protection.
You, gracing the tiniest grain of sand with your presence as you carry your doctorates on your breast pocket,
and your mother's dreams in your hands...
Me, occupying the academy,
without rhyme or reason but ever searching for the latter.
Against the winter's breeze,
your tempest of black hair flows in the wind,
fluttering around your face like the Whirling Dervishes,
making me lost in the ecstasy of the Divine.
Clad in black,
and with no adornments nor jewels,
save the crimson lining your lips...
to my eye, your beauty has nowhere to hide.
And on that night, I breathed it in,
even as your mechanical chariot carried you away from me with deliberate haste.
A brisk wind caught my back, pulling me back to the pavement,
though as I strolled my mind drifted like dandelion seeds blown to the wind...
Back in Tehran, long faces wrapped in linen would grow despondent,
if only they knew my thoughts of you.
Sure as the pious, I knew:
a splendid love story began between us that night,
propelled by the tenor of laughter,
and the strike of piano keys,
and the belted lyrics of strangers sharing merriment well into the small hours.
My romanticized childish hopes swelled that night,
that a heart engulfed in a forlorn sea might make acquaintance with such a passionate soul...
As I strolled back to Harlem,
I couldn't shake the thought of your dancing silhouette next to me,
the feel of your hair around my fingers,
the warmth of your jean-clad leg pressed into mine,
the strength of your hand atop my thigh,
nor the magic of your smile which could spark the ire of miscreants
or calm the rumblings of a tumultuous sea.
Sure as the pious, I knew:
This was the beginning.
And only the beginning.
Suns rise and sink,
the moon melts and grows;
So too does our love.
Days and nights have since past,
ever spent caressing one another,
while the wheel of fate spins a web of love around us.
Tucked away in our cocoon, we are,
away from the eyes and envies of the world.
Resplendent in your timeless beauty, you are.
Know that the gentle kindness between us will never fade.
Know that the thought of catching your gaze,
even if only just once more, sustains me,
And it always will.