How old are you
The day – I left my house
With a gray sky
Over my head
No smile – on bare trees
No names – on streets
My diary was lost.
A lady with
Last night make up on her face
Asked me
“How old are you?”
I was thinking of my shoes
To tight to go
Faraway.
I saw a woman
With a question
In her blue eyes
Not seeing me
Swept away
By the waves –
Ignorant
To my memories – blank.
She asked me,
“How old are you?”
I wondered, “How old I was?”
With wrinkles of pain
On my bones – unseen.
Nov. 1994
Mehri Yalfani: Novelist, Poet, Short Story Writer 