A poem by Nimah Ismail Nawwab

The Arabian jasmine's soft petals call out,

Sitti's voice echoes through,

The years trip past,

To the past.

Silvery braids brushing her waist,

Soft coils swinging in the breeze,

Crowned with the white stars of full,

Glittering in the early morning light,

Scooping the beloved blooms into water bowls,

Threading them into strings, rings, necklaces.