The Coming Man
A man appears, far off in my verse,
His dark eyes, brighter than my darkest hours.
His arrival is evident;
Each line yearns to paint his portrait,
Each part of me yearns for his will.
A steadfast cypress emerges in my distant verse,
Standing tall, breathing life into the poem,
Evergreen,
Ensuring my soul doesn’t wither, unloved.
Copyright © Negar Chegeninezhad | Year Posted 2026
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