Paramour meaning lover,
Is a story about a mother,
But before, she was a sister, A lover and a neighbor,
The world had known later.
This is a portrait of her, a paramour.
In her early days on earth,
Being a neonatal by birth,
She spend her ineffable time,
With mamma, papa and Jive,
Who moved with her rhyme.
This is a portrait of her, a paramour. 12 years has passed,
And she looking aghast,
At herself in the mirror,
Seeing the changes of hers and others,
But she isn’t lugubrious at all,
Coz she looked younger than all.
She loved dancing in the rain,
Hiding during pain,
Singing during gain,
Moving round the lane,
And eating the cane.
No, not insane, But in vain.
This is a portrait of her, a paramour.
This phase of her life,
Is as sharp as a knife,
Sometimes she was diligent And ardent,
Sometimes she was doubtful And awful,
A bit natty sometimes she was,
Made others to call her a hussy ass.
This is a portrait of her, a paramour.
Their came a number of proposes,
Along with as many as red roses,
Now a real paramour, Not of her father,
But of Harry, her lover.
He was yobbish, heinous, And loved ostentation,
Unlike her Who was estimable and defensible.
No, she was unaware
Unaware about the niggardly and impious man.
Opprobrious and voluptuous, She was,
Didn’t realize her lies and her fights.
This is a portrait of her, a paramour.
Now she sees herself in clouds nine,
And then takes a sip of that old wine,
Her father rejoicing And saying-
“This is my daughter, only mine,”
Who always reminded her, ‘There is no gain without pain’.
Taking her ink and pen again,
The poet, started writing her domain,
The only aim of her was to remain,
In the chaotic world, Which she wanted to gain.
This is a portrait of her, a paramour.
Adorned in her white gown,
She greeted everyone with her frown,
Married the one, She had long known.
Daddy’s princess has now gone,
To a new house which was not her own.
That night had changed everything to all,
‘My wifey’ is what he called,
They hid themselves, Under the stars and the dark cloud.
A new love is what she is talking about.
Motherhood is what you’ll See next 9 months inside her womb,
Is the biggest test,
‘She’ is not the best, But a bit better than the rest.
Ah! That moment in her life’s text,
Was the most deadliest, The pain to let the soul out,
That gain after the last shout.
Daughter! A Daughter, The nurse spoke out,
‘Mamma’ is what she was Called as next,
Yes! She is the best, She is the best.
An epitome of care and love
The most safest place
That no one can move.
This is a portrait of her, a paramour.
The last phase,
After a long race, ‘Just look at her face’!
The mirror says.
All she can see is Wrinkles and scars,
This has stepped in, At a slower pace.
Yes, today she is in her Early sixties,
Living in one of the cities, Spending her last times,
Chatting with her buddies, And carefully looking,
At her life’s graffiti’s. Surrounded by her grandchildren
And the kitties, She finds no remedies,
Nothing she has now to succeed,
No, nothing to proceed.
‘Rest in peace’- they read,
No account of the countless tears they shed,
The grave of the dead,
Was the place to which she was lead.
Adieu! Adieu, They all now said,
In the hands of the almighty, Was now her head,
No, no one can reach, Where she is now at.
My beloved friends and perfects,
This is not a poem of feminists,
This is a poem of humanists.
This is a portrait of her, a paramour.