Will You Take This Man?

For love?

Of course.

Sienna tea

saccharine baklava

exploratory conversation,

brimming

with marital suggestion,

maternal thrill –

tea cups clank like celebratory dafs,

eyes shimmer

surge

glow,

clear with such light I will never forget –

those twin suns

inspire

mandatory filial upkeep.

I do adore the sun.,

so I have and will.

Oh it was an event –

flora of every pigmentation

fragrance

orientation

draped the ceiling,

people’s hair

clothes

hands,

a splendid garden

planted

by me,

for my sun –

the best of times,

atmosphere dancing

to laughter-born gales,

a sea of people

pulsating

to one phantasmagoria –

the future looks

smells

moves

like an oasis.

We Iranian love nature:

such life gives life.

There are two trees

planted

in my garden,

visible from any window in the house:

oak for Rose

cypress for Melody –

grown by yours truly

right at the inception of each pregnancy,

back when bending over was possible,

no swelling anywhere

figure still girlish –

four little saplings now develop together

through

cataclysms

tantrums

blooms and flowers

colds and frosts,

supported

by

the solidity

authority

joy

heat

emanating from the stars burning through my gaze.

No suns yet,

my love must blaze for an age longer.

Yes

I married for love –

all the adoration I hold for my sun

my garden

my trees –

for someday beaming just as

integrally

for my own daughters.