My Paradise

And you ask about my paradise.

It is no great place, no distant land

just this

A quiet bench, weathered wood,

nestled beneath the blossoming glory of spring,

where she sits beside me,

Her head was resting softly on my shoulder

as if the world had been designed for this peace.

In my hand, a book I once traveled far to find

selected not due to its plot,

but I knew that she would hear it in my voice.

I read to her gently

lines that have remained within me like far-off reminders

passages folded with love

words that once moved me

Now to share with hope.

that they might move her too.

And at that time, As petals drop and pages turn, I require nothing more.

Nidal Sati

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