when i was nine
dad took me to Shiraz in Iran
also known as a city of poets, wine and flowers.
the soulful beauty of its people
was like the ancient sun
lifted by scimitar moon into gentle bronze.
and as we walked along Chahar-souq
after cups of a dizzy-sweet chai
we imagined we floated on a carpet
from a jolly buzz of the spice market
into a magical desert
where sand was witness
to a plentiful of unspoken legends
and each whiff of wind was a star song