away from days of blood
when crimson soaked hands i would wash,
the sun shines on the shimmering sands
as she cradles me on her lap
and i read to her ferdowsi.

time runs like a madman
breathless, moments to count like rosary beads
it's not often that i can see her tranquil smile
or sing to her sweet nothings
instead of choking naive fairies.