Someone once was there, wandered,
Perhaps more than someone many,
Walked the woods purposely aimlessly
Seeking something without quite knowing what,
Yearning for a drop, of warmth, respite,
A connection, an encounter, a welcome,
A gentle invitation, into another’s realm.

Someone once was there, waited,
Perhaps lighting a samovar early in the morning,
Setting the table with fresh pistachios
Fruits and cucumbers, a variety of cakes
Sweets, tiny plates, little forks and knives,
Gazing out the window, waiting for passersby
To invite them, into their humble abode.

Tempted to knock on the door the wanderer
Outside hesitates whilst the host inside runs
To open the portal into his dimension, eager
To unleash all the kindness in disuse locked up
Within, display his humaneness, pour the abundance
Of his generosity, nothing more than a stong
Longing, to share what he has with someone

Else. Serendipitous event, as chai brews,
In the instant their eyes meet tears they fall
Into each others’ arms, in a long embrace,
Two perfect strangers in need of something
Without quite knowing what, a drop,
Of warmth, respite, a connection,
Human touch, just someone, with whom

To share a moment, smiles, a story, life.

[Featured photo: Old traditional house in the woods, Shomal, Iran – 2024]