by Nazanin Mirsadeghi
In my dreams
my grandmother’s hands
hold a delicate crystal bowl
as she sings
to the beauty of
pomegranate seeds
in my dreams
my grandfather’s face
fades in the smoke
rising from his cigarette’s ash
while he writes, and he reads
in my dreams
I am always five
reaching up high
to grab the figs
-larger than my hands-
hidden between the leaves
in my dreams
the sky is tall
blue
and clean,
the world is grand
safe
and serene
in my dreams
in my dreams
in my dreams
life is brighter
in my dreams
Previously published in a collection titled Garden in a Seed
© 2021 Nazanin Mirsadeghi All rights reserved.
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