Treasure Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

Treasure

Map in hand, whispering in secret, men in search
They talk of treasure, Pyramids, of Incas and others

Holes are dug, some meet-fight, and blood has spilled
Maps are sold secretly, some burned; some buried

The hearts beat and throb with dream for a glance
Bodies shake; it is worth days and nights sleep-less

In the Louver, Hermitage and elsewhere
Displaced artifacts are great; admired

But the two, though the same, are not same
One's hidden deep in ground one's exposed

The searching day and night with heart beat
That is a story; it's romance...it's something

The room's walls are covered with mirrors; with posters
All great, attractive and reflect; like artworks; museums

But a girl in cover is singled, eyes are filled with questions
She is like treasure; mystery, all wonder: "Something else! "