One morning, from the blue window,
I see a hummingbird singing – a pure song.
A beautiful one, standing on a dried tree, reaching himself to the sunlight, proudly.

There’re giggles; there’re leaves’ falling sounds, and there’re kids come out from the houses.
There’s a stone fly through the air and hit the tree.
Satisfied atmosphere’s disappeared.

I wonder…
If the kids happy or not,
but there’s no peace for the bird.
He flies away.

Back to my room, standing in front of the mirror, looking into my mind.

I wonder…
Is that the gun’s explosion?
Is that one of the difficulties in life?
Even you are living in a peaceful place or not.
There’s no difference between the US. and Iran.

A sour taste is going through my throat.

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