Here, people, smells and colors
Sound familiar ordinary objects to me.
I counted the windows and rooms,
Even, the bricks, my home consist.
I enjoy everything at my home
Gazing its landscape, listening to native dove.
I love, neighbor's accent and jokes
I know, when they fight, die or to make love.
I'm accustomed to all of these
Alas, no enough I feel comforter
whenever I reveal my dream and heart
I'm punished: 'go away, fool stranger'.
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Comments about this poem (The stranger by Mehri Mehraban )
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