This poem is taken from PN Review 36, Volume 10 Number 4, March - April 1984.
Desert Stop at Noon
The house is one bare room
And only tea is served.
The old man, mild, reserved,
Shuffles into a gloom
Where mattresses are laid.
I sip, grateful for the cool shade.
His small son watches me,
Approaches, pertly smiles.
...
And only tea is served.
The old man, mild, reserved,
Shuffles into a gloom
Where mattresses are laid.
I sip, grateful for the cool shade.
His small son watches me,
Approaches, pertly smiles.
...
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