White Grey Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

White Grey

The city
-with buildings and trees
-its sky, streets take my mind
-to long past in Hammam.
-What a time…

I was child
-six or five.

And she was very young
-was aware, and shy of
-changes in her figure
-and bashful; sort of lost!

Confused she was if
-should stay or depart,
-leave for home;
-boil water, clean, wash
-or remain, act normal!

And my eyes
-were spies…

Held a pen Brain's hand
-and itself was paper,
-eagerly noting down
-every move and motion.

The same is atmosphere
-with city of today
-two copies,
-duplicates, similar.

Bashfulness visible
-in that away.

She wore a silk dress,
-it was white, tight and wet;
-too fetish on her chest
-but today's is grey
-and body far larger.

The season and trees
-as well as their ceiling
-are, hardly visible,
-they peep and shy away
-mesmerise the vision.
-With my eyes play game
-cause wonder, run away.

Beauty of the fog
- (thin and thick
-near, far…)
-can again, make me fall.

She, the girl was a thief
-stole my attention;
-my eyes were blinded.
-I stepped on soap-bar,
-to slip, fly high
-and crash on ground
-cutting my eyebrow…

The floor of Hammam
-turned to pool of blood
-after my high flight.

And the naked women
-shouted and cursed mother:
- "Take him out…he is man! "

Today in fetish fog
-the same fate can arrive
-through an accident
-when driving my car.

Crazy I have been…

Crazy I remain
-to the end of my life
-for moving and the fixed;
-various beauties.

Possibly, this is love!