Koroush Hamekhani : On your Dress

On your Dress

I caress your dress,
And I feel your pulse beating.

So, where are you?
I cannot see you.

I remember you wrote a poem
That you’re leaving,
And this was your excuse.

You will be back one day,
You will read my poem,
Without excuse.

You will caress my shirt,
My pulse will beat,
But you will not see me.

Koroush Hamehkhani