Paramour Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

Paramour

Like old days and Epics, meaningful, meaningless
Amour is deep chiselled to make sense:
“I mean love.”

Spent time to think of small ‘par’ to its side?

“It is French, from Latin, like always is borrowed and coined English.”

Once again all alone with candle, midnight’s oil…
“Something’s wrong! ”

Travel…
Travel…
Travel…

Like a rock rolling down the mountain,
Rock to stone then to sand sitting calm.

This is what takes place
We lose much, all hollows, vacuumed
Then caves are refilled or, replaced with the clause.

Par is now “equal, similar, the piece of…”

Par as an immigrant changed in search
By social rejected, struggled, was welded to the love
Now it is a lover, illicit partner to married, not husband nor a wife.