POEM

PREPARATION

My sleep exploded

By the call of the morning vank

Mustafa is in his dream

  I gaze at him

 Saw weapons inside his sleep

 Wait….

Till he wake up.

Did
1
 He is a poet sometimes
 Nobody knows which times
That’s why I have no words

Expecting the arrival of an unknown train
No chance sometime to holt
The station where we
May come with a flesh of local air.

 2
 Everyone in his poem
 The most difficult word.

 3
 I have doubted what I did.