The beauty, the marvel
It be the breath of fresh air that our hearts beat on
Or that splash of clean water that more often than not quenches our thirsts,
It’s an ineffable magnificence
Straight from the rejuvenating sunrises, our dear vitamin D
To the brain calming orange sunsets that we love to watch
It’s that mango, it’s slices that are Life; food
Or that kale whose leaves taste so good
And the shade we quite often enjoy
And again, the tree or two that’s the timber on our roof…
The undying source that for granted we take
And for the proverbial beings we are
None will miss the waters till the wells run dry
It’s the trees we cut and don’t replace
That’ll be the death of our fresh air
It’s the waste that we’d rather dispose in a river
That’ll be the extinction of our fish
And oh well, burnt plastics
To see to it that seeing starry nights becomes a fairy tale
And to cup it all up
The beauty that’ll be turned to a dream
If we cease to conserve
She said that I liked tea….but I didn’t like tea..I liked black tea I opined…so she begged to ask…why black? And I cheesily retorted that Black reeks of pain and dark…and that black tea tastes like the honk of a lorry with a dying battery..
“That must be so swee..” I didn’t let her finish conveying that sentiment
‘Do you mean to say that pain, darkness and a sickly lorry honk frenzy your taste buds?’…
My acquaintance didn’t say a word..she went on to sip from my concoction of tea leves, masala and water then closed her eyes blissfully..just as if the tea was draining to her heart instead of her stomach..
I was about to conclude that she loved it when my now silky faced acquaintance asked ‘ so you don’t take sugar too?’
For a moment I didn’t have the words but before she could brand me weird, I went like..’ I think I like my Mercury better measuring temperatures than sweetening beverage.’..what I took after saying that wasn’t a sip..it was a gluttonous gulp
I was laughing last..or so I thought..but I wasn’t ready for this..
‘ Do you mind sharing your diabetes story’
Okay she’d won now. And you know, it was eight in morning..I only win most of my word fights in the afternoon so I motioned my hand toward hers for a handshake..’Edward, Edward Wright’, I said in my vain bass
Shaking my hand quite firmly, she said, ‘I’m Flora, Flora Botanica..I hate flowers. Pollen more specifically, stinging sneezes.’
‘You do realize you’re an irony Flora’ I quip.
‘ It’s been two decades of that statement in my ears..it’s my best cliché’
I wasn’t winning this one.
Paper and pen might not ever be enough
To capture perfect descriptions of what my heart says
Words might not ever interpret satisfactorily
The palpitations the thought of her casts on my heart
I might not ever be able to tell
What it is her voice does to my ears
And when she laughs in those voice notes
That serendipitous giggle that’s a siren’s song to my heart
My words might not ever explain the musical notes
And how marvellously those cords are tuned.
I might not be able to ever tell
What it feels like to lay my eyes on her when she’s not looking
To stare into her eyes when and to feel immersed in them
Or just looking into that sumptuous bosom she sports
Or those well curved servings of African glory…
Well to say the possible least
She’s just this one Haven of a marvel that happened in my life
A Heavensent soul, an answered prayer
A massive addition to why I’m blessed
She’s a redefinition of what my dreams look like
She’s the best description of what awesome company is to me..
Sometimes my brain waves just wander into this thought that she’s this sole key that could free set this soul of mine from the pain that time deals onto life….
She’s my best description of Love
I know I’m in Love…
With this flower,
I send you all my love
I release all that burns my heart
receive it with both hands
for if I kept it to myself
I’ll only be left with ashes for a heart
for a man’s heart does wither,
and so does a fire.