His Baby Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

His baby

Time has come for the change
Fact is there, sweet-bitter, I must face
Who can be best teacher but expert?

I enter restaurant
The sign says: “For trucks.”
This I need, learn I must.

Tables, chairs are many.
Place looks V.I.P.
I recall older days, of chauffeurs.

I somehow sit with man, self-invite.
Extrovert, with questions I start.
And he talks…

As if he baby sits, lullabies
Talks of roads and police and truck
So sweet, innocent, all are nice.

Only job for decades, three to four
His baby, and his toy and his love
His truck…and he talks.

“I slept in cabin…late today…I had time.”
“I washed it all over and cleaned…”
“The police looks at you, your dress and truck.”

He has been a mentor and great
He taught me, in his eyes an endless
Joy and love, pleasure.

His baby and lover is truck.