What Do I Have To Mend?
written by: Anahit Arustamyan
My pillow is both soft and hard under my head.
Who knows why my mind has knitted a sail?
The sail is torn though I mend it in each rising day.
I put the huge sail on my small pillow to wait.
My worn out pillow just keeps the moon’s shade.
The moon is afar with its fairy tale.
What do I have to mend, my pillow, my sail or even the rain?
The rain cries on my umbrella and reaches my face.
My pillow is probably my white sail.
It never floats on the seas as its holes aren’t mended yet.
What do I have to mend, my pillow, my umbrella or the rain?
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