Painter Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

Painter

Is midnight
I am out
Walk and walk
My floor is ground
The ceiling is sky.

Traffic is dead since
Our team of the young men
are in court; basketball.

"Go Raptors."

I hear the trees and grass
And bushes and shrubs
Whispering words of love.

The world that surrounds me
From air to my thoughts
Are sweet and fresh
With great aroma.

My skin to hair and
Nostrils, toe to head
Feel the taste and smell
Priceless, excellent…

I think of Parisa
She is young
Left Iran…

There she taught
And played
Flute and harmonica.

On her pants, the spots
Speak of what she does
She paints walls…

She works hard
Is tired with no time,
No kitchen; eats pizza.