Her exclusive sorrowful expression had been the norm for all reflections in her modest apartment. Every mirror, window,glass,water, cutlery had gotten quite familiar with it. The face of pain, an arching of the heart, a bleeding of her soul seemed glued permanently behind closed doors. With every memory,far and recent, she sank into the dark of oblivion, of pains unresolved and simmering angers untamed. The world had shown her the worst unapologetically without cares nor forethought. For days on end,she was blurred, courtesy of the teared mirage that clouded her eyes for days on end. The ends of days seemed to start and finish with tears dawn to dusk like a paranoic cycle of bad karma. Were these the sins of her forefathers coming home to roost? Had God decided to forsake her for her wavering faith in the face of all her tribulations? Or was she now the living reincarnation of Job? She had cried till she could cry no more! Her tears were dry, but her hurt was still fresh. Her pain came in waves of memories undesired, unwanted, and totally unwelcome. She had wished for amnesia-clutching on straws? Suicide? She did not have the strength for it, already worn down by these sufferations. The light at the end of the tunnel was a dark lit. Her heart was voided by her father’s absence and her brother’s eternity. Her son’s peculiarity was hard to figure.

Lili Cryer wiped her tears for the upteenth time. In the dark of her room, lights all out, curtains all drawn, she moved no inch from where she was sat,her back C – curved, knees on her chest and a napkin in hand. She had just lost her father. This death bled her more than the last, weighing her down to her last ounce of strength. This one she had lived through, losing the battle with every passing day, life drifting away with every ticking clock. She had walked with him this treacherous journey from the beginning to his end. His symptoms surfaced with intent and intention, like a volcanic eruption, rearing with  a certain familiarity to her right after they had buried the other – a father following in the footsteps of his son. Things have never been the same again. Father’s illness was swift. It had since started way before the notice. When it showed up, there was no doubt. It followed the previous script,like a sequel of a movie already directed. This was supposed to be an easier battle, having ridden the last rodeo, yet it wasn’t. It was a stabbing in her right eye when that was the only one left. She was blinded by this event to depths unimaginable,that she locked the whole world out of her psyche.

Through this particular ordeal,she went through the motions of sincere denial. She was unrecognizable,her defining identities lost in a blur of indistinguishable blends most notably at work. Late entries and early exits,unmet deadlines,a tantrum here and there, periodic mood swings,silence, suspicious looks, inconsiderate comments were all she served. Who could blame her? Her father, dearest to her, was diagnosed with leukimia, cancer of the blood, stage IV. She was in and out of the hospital more than the doctors themselves. Taking test results, nursing father, comforting mum,playing mother to her daughter and her brothers, and being strong for the family-it was overwhelming. She was the foundation that held the house. In between,she had to contend with the insecurities of her dad,with all the family resources pulled and depleted,health insurance all drawn,money drying up in an endeavor to save him,he numerously refused the treatment to relieve the family. By the time he gave up the ghost,they had accrued debt to begging point. She cursed poverty and sneered at it with utmost disgust. The funeral was small, mourning brief, and when the last of the compassionate grievers left, she was back at work,back at the wheel doing what she knew best then. Avoidance!

Two years ago, almost to the day her father was buried,his brother’s symptoms had begun like a casual stomach ache. An aching that did not want – go away. He had shrugged it off more than once, popping painkillers more times than a crack fiend. But then, the pain came on throbbing,deep and pulsating, consistently intensifying to infinite magnitudes. The somatic sensation was so discomforting he became unhinged. A worried family then rushed him to the hospital;an intervention was long overdue. At first,it was an inflammation in the abdomen. It was simple, a prescription of steroids to decrease the inflammation and intravenous painkillers. There was hope. Hope that did not last a day. The pain went from bothersome to deranging. He was sedated. This local physician conceded. He referred them to a good doctor. Public hospitals in Africa are a drag but they got the good doctor. The good doctor ordered some tests,scans, x-rays, and a barrage of clinical examinations; I won’t bore you with all these graduate school medical jargon.

“There is a need for a great doctor,” remarked the Good Doctor when the results came back.

Great doctors are expensive, but life is precious. Desperate times, desperate measures. The patient was admitted,still sedated, peacefully, and laid calm. She was there every step of the way,stood with mother and father. They were relieved he was under. He was not in pain, and her tears dried up momentarily.

“I always felt like he threw in the towel that day… Like he knew the end was in sight and he just wanted to go from where he was most comfortable,” she remarked one time. East or West…

The diagnosis was bad,the prognosis damning. The biopsy revealed the worst. He had Cancer. Stage IV. Here in Africa,cancer is a death sentence. If you are poor,they say, you start shopping for a casket,kind of like the early days of HIV. Ignorance, poverty, and disease are still a nuisance. Treatment is generally pricey,cancer treatment is costly. Father was there then, he carried the most burden of responsibility.  It was frustrating. She shed tears every chemo session. She felt his pain sometimes more than the patient himself. She fed him after, nursed him most times with mother managing a business outside town and dad actively working ward administration. This was her brother and she loved him to death, literally. When she left to the solitude of her house some evenings, she had sweats, lots of anxiety. She struggled with motherhood as well. Her teenage son was coming off age, and she was irritable . It wasn’t a good situation. After all the prescribed rounds,with no significant improvement,one evening,he insisted,he wanted out. The hospital wasn’t doing it for him. He was aweary. He insisted against medical advice. They yielded. He got home early night and rested.

The dark of the night inspired an abundance of fear,strangeness and fright. Her sobs and whimpers were impalpable to the unperceptive observer. She played host to a few colleagues who responded to give her first relief in affliction. The news of her brothers’ passing had just gotten through. She had seen him hardly a couple of hours ago, and he was no more. She needed to talk about it. She needed to be needed,to be held,to be stroked,to be told that someone cared. The tale told about the light at the end turned bleak.

                            **********

Her thoughts were drawn out and infelicitous. One still clip after another with no concept of grace or happiness. This particular retrospect took her back to a great time when she was in love once. Once upon a time. Her purity well reserved,she had adhered to her religious teachings of chastity way too long compared to the average youth. She was waiting for marriage. Many a man had tried to test her faith, and many a man had failed like fallen dominos. She was invincible till this one came along (juu Eva hakosi Adamu wakumshawishi) the cliche; a tall,dark and strikingly handsome. He enchanted her with the finesse of a prince persistently, articulately like an Indian snake charmer. She was carried away. Love was in the air,in her stupor,she let herself go. Her resolve was softened, and she was broken. It was a whirl wind sweep of love and passion,of desire and attraction,and of regard, affection, and endearment. This twist, fleeting as it was, started unfolding when she missed the moon. Therein lied the problem. He changed. He became aloof and irritable. He was not ready for fatherhood. He suggested abortion. She was pro life. He was desperate. When diplomacy failed,he turned violent. She was helpless. She cried her days out. He wanted time out. Time out? The promise of marriage disappeared as soon as he left. She was devastated, heartbroken,bitter, and now abandoned.

Seven months later, she delivered the fruit of her womb, a boy,she named him Marcellous. She intended the name to inspire true fight and loyalty to her. She raised him alone best she could; not in wealth or privilege but in  uncertainty and obscurity. She had to, his deadbeat father had left, leaving her  desolate. She did well with the boy. Raising a respectful and responsible child who in his teenage flourish seemed to be ascending well into manhood. She was proud at least until a fortnight ago.

She was summoned. Upon arrival, she was ushered into the school board room where the disciplinary committee was expectant. Her son,beloved Marcel,was in deep water. The accusations were grave, the assertions tough. He had been reported,coarcing where seduction failed,having sexual relations with fellow boys. To her,this was a coup de theatre. Yet there were several interviews,write ups, and confessions well documented by the child psychologist and the Guidance and Counselling’s Head of Department. He had broken multiple school rules and had committed criminal offences punishable by law. Bullying,rape, indecent exposure were among the words that were thrown at her. She was shocked. She wanted to hear from her son. He was on standby. They sent one of them to call him in.

He was almost ashamed to look at mom. There was even a hint of guilt in a stolen glance. The questioning was calm, conducted by the child psychologist present,and she did manoeuvre her lines with quite the prowess of a true professional. She broke him. He confessed to some of the allegations but denied all the rapes. There were boys, he said, consented – they just reported in fear of the stigma. In tears,he reported the struggle he was going through,the labels he endured every day, the sneers,the looks, and the stigma he had to put up with. Why was his sexuality considered deviant? Did he not have the right to express himself sexually without judgement? Was he not the sacrificial lamb for a group that was in the shadows for fear of all that he was facing now? Was he not human? Why was Africa not progressive enough to accommodate people like them? He said in his compassionate address, that he knew expulsion was the option they were gunning for. He loves the school he came to fulfil his dreams in,that if they cast him out,like a stranger cur,he would commit suicide,if not for him,then in spite and defiance, to start a liberation. It was time for his fellows to hear their cries.

Lili left the school swept over. She was told to await a decision . She was overwhelmed. Her son was gay. Her son was a homo! As if her single parenthood wasn’t enough a scoff,now this? Her burden was cut off by a persistent call. Understandably,  she was in no mood to talk, but the caller kept calling. Further, it was a private number. She picked it up to stop the ringing. She did not get it at first. The voice on the other end was a familiar baritone. It was him. He who had left her lone and lacking. It was him. How did he even get her contact? She had since changed her contacts in the wake of his disappearance. She wanted nothing to do with him. But how? Why? There were no pleasantries, clearly no love lost! He had gotten wind of the hearing; he was not happy. He was disappointed. She was censured severely, angrily. Her parenting was rebuked, dressed down, and spat on. Then came the name calling, derogatory names that should not make print. She was good for nothing, an ugly scar. It was all her fault. She had one job, the caller said. The only job she was born to do, made to do, meant to do, yet she still fumbled. She could not even raise his son to be straight. If word got out, it could be detrimental.  What kind of mother was she? She heard it all, a reprimand which she had no rebut.

Gregory Roberts, popularly known as Grega of the People’s Party, carried himself with the kind of grace and nobility most notable with the traditional roman priesthood and the early Pharisees. Born and raised in a richly vested political family, he was an educated elite and learned in the best schools from a very young age. He was bred Catholic, like his father, and at kne point,  before he was corrupted by worldly desires, he harboured dreams of being a man of the cloth. He had two degrees, one in Political Science and another in International Relations.  He knew his languages intimately and was articulate in five tongues. His father had served as a technocrat in Foreign Affairs for decades. Grega’s political star was rising quick. Having served two terms as an MP, he had been elected party secretary and flag bearer in the next election.  The election was coming. He was running on two tickets, crime & punishment and homosexuality. These issues had endeared him to the electorate, specifically, the antigay radicals. In an environment that demonised homosexuality, his hard stance resonated well with the people. Gregory Roberts is Marcel’s father.

Robert was seated in his pristine Party Offices when the news came through about his son’s conduct. The case, according to the informant, was ongoing. He had tried unsuccessfully to reach the Headteacher. A man in his position had influence enough to bury the case. He rued having that son. He despised its mother afresh. Why didn’t Lili abort when she had the chance? This was bad news. Such information to his political opponents would be the end of him. His son was a secret, but with the spotlight on him and his presidential aspirations,  this was very delicate a situation. He knew no honour existed among informants. He couldn’t help it, he felt ignoble. This whole thing was ignominous. His very principles were being tested. Even to his fellows, this info, if it could get out, would dent his political ambition. He was a family man now, with a wife and a couple of kids who knew nothing about a child he sired in his youth. In all fronts, this was potentially damaging information.  How could he now fight homosexuality? His son, his very own flesh and blood was not only gay but was also facing possible criminal charges.  How ironic!

                               **********

Life’s life, but hers, hers had been exceptionally unpleasant recently.  Ghese events had left her bitter and indignant.  She disliked herself for the begrudging feeling about life. She felt robbed; stolen from. The jealousy with which she looked at others whom she felt were lucky to have their fathers and brothers consumed her awfully.  The two bereavements followed closely,one after the other, the latter coming too soon before she could even grieve the former. And her son? Her son, she had no words for. She was drained,hard up, and an emotional wreck. In dad,she lost a symbol of strength, hope, and leadership. In  her brother,she lost a genuine friend. Her other sibling fell into depression. He drinks himself to sleep. He was fired from work.  It was too much for him.

The last two years were ones to forget, yet every day seemed like the walss were closing in. Who could blame her? She was going through a damning period even she could not fathom. Yet, even in this state, she did not throw in the towel. She has a friend who has stuck closer than a brother. She’s got a support group in church, she attends to help her cope. She is seeing a therapist to  help her through. Though it’s early days, she is hopeful.  There was a fleeting flush of optimism.

She got up. Switched on the light,fixed herself a coffee, and sat on the sofa in the den. She loved fresh coffee. She loved the aroma. She turned on the telly. The news was all about the war in Ukraine. There was a lot of loss, destruction, and refuge. The rubble was too heap. So she decided not to watch any more painful stories. She was done crying. Her eyes were still wet. Her napkin was all soaked. She was hungry now,she had a craving for ugali and omena.

End!

Credit to: Kofa Julius – Editor of this story,for your patience and understanding. Lots of gratitude 🙏

She had that Monalisa kind of effect. That sunshine smile in an otherwise dump day. That twinkle starlight in the eyes of a happy child .Yes, she had that effect. She could charm her way through heaven it seemed,no, out of hell perhaps . She had on a professional dress; gray, sleeveless and shy above knee length. Her titty- meet was showing slightly on her sides but not her cleavage,she tried to cover it almost as if she was afraid to show too much of her goodies but just enough to make someone notice the stuff. He did notice , so did many others, I suppose. Her specks were dark,those light shades that seem darker in light and lighter in the dark, they need no serious prescription last I checked. Her’s were prescribed though, she insisted. She was scented, something flowery perhaps; not too aurific nor engulfing. No dictionary can define her as tall, at least not in mine, the dwarfs couldn’t be reached for a consult on this subject. She is somewhere between prime Lupita and Jordin Sparks in body shape. She is melanin with a titchy hint of brown chocolate skin. She is above averagely blessed in shape and her behind can attest. She wouldn’t stop traffic but she is enough to turn heads in the streets. She had a presence. She had style,like someone off of the legendary Bond Girls gallery. Yes,she was almost perfect because no matter what,no one can achieve perfection. She was exquisite, one who made men hiss in search,in admiration,in like,in love and in lust.

She went to his work place uncertain whom she was to meet looking for a gig. She eventually was directed to his office, thanks to the all knowing receptionist. They were all sat in the department, animated,some bantering,some gossiping,some thinking about last night. It was one of those happy days at work when everything seemed to be like it’s supposed to be. She knocked the door courteously in adherence to her good upbringing  and loyal to her Mama’s teachings. She thought she heard an invitation to get in, so, she pushed the door gently and in she got. She was unfazed by the company she got,like a good thespian, right off the script, introduced herself in English. Something akin to the introductions of Russel Crowe in ‘The Gladiator’ or Ned Stark in Game of Thrones just before he killed the deserter. The short of it, is, she is Rebecca,from Egerton University, representing her acting group. She was marketing ‘Extreme Brains Empire’, her performance group, which she co-founded with her ex, seeking an opportunity to perform set plays and novels in high schools.

She doesn’t have a barbie voice nor is it manly either. It’s somewhat across, between light bass and slight soprano. Stood just inside the office, she projected a confidence about herself that did little to hide her assurance. The Head of Department grilled her a bit but she stood her ground, manoeuvering the conversation with quite the finesse of a good orator,all the while, he was sat there, unfazed yet slightly impressed, knowing all so well that her wit was about to be tested. He was always fascinated with Law as a profession and by extension lawyers,so when he heard she was undergrad law,his motor started running. At one time, he wanted to be a lawyer himself but that’s a story for another day. He had been influenced to a fair extent by the writings of his partial namesake Grisham about law,the Perry Mason character by James Hadley Chase, Ali Macbill, The Practice,The legend of Danny Crane in Boston Legal and his dear friend Allan Shaw,Patrick Lumumba of Kenya has always fascinated him to date, Paul Muite at his prime was a yardstick and Orengo,the evergreen charmer in his form in court, is still impressionable. All these personalities,real or fictitious,played a role in his liking for law and good oratory skills, not forgetting the lates, Michael Kijana Wamalwa and Mwalimu Julius Nyerere, two men, well versed in English and Kiswahili respectively,who could bend language to their will and express themselves like a well writ piece of poetry.

It was him she was to meet and she knew it already. He’d always known female lawyers to be feminists,herein lied their common interest. He initiated it in the most blatant of approaches, a challenge to test her argumentive skills. A test to hear her go. She was beautiful,but that wasn’t enough. He wanted to see what lies beyond that which meets the eye. That which made her choose law over journalism, law over community health or even teaching. He wanted more, curiosity maybe or intuition that there was something beyond the obvious. Later on,he recalls, asking what other profession she had contemplated,to which she responded,” Theatre and Film… But law  has always been my first option. I grew up knowing that all I wanted was to be a lawyer.” He posed a question about abortion,the universal right to life versus women’s ‘right’ to choose life or termination of pregnancy bar extreme circumstances like rape and risks to the life of the mother. He was pro-life. Her rebuttal was calm and articulate,firm and non combative. She made it a conversation rather than an argument. She was pro-choice. The question of equality arose,she had a compelling take but here he bested her,convinced her that equity of opportunity was the better route rather than equality. It was a stimulating encounter,one that had the other members listen in awe. The back and forth tags,the agreements and disagreements, the fors and against,the sarcastic comments,the disapproval sneers, the ‘yeah rights, mmmmhs, tu che’s and nah,that doesn’t hold’ were entertainingly informative. There lied some residual air of inevitability,a silent promise of warranted imminence when she left,she knew, they both knew,that that wasn’t the end of it.

‘ What did become of the show?’ She asked when fate had them intertwined,that air of inevitability stroke. It was a let down. He was shyly embarrassed. It wasn’t going to happen. He cited different influences,highlighted poverty being the main one. There was also students’ reluctance to pay,here he felt the kids just didn’t appreciate the performance of these plays nor did they feel the need to attend. They underplayed their importance. Other colleagues were also another factor, some wouldn’t support the program for their own selfish reasons, trash talking about it and others, especially from other departments discouraged them outright. His own members were masters of double speech,like loving what you don’t like or liking what you don’t love. The Judases live on. Have they no shame? Do they get their rocks off sabotaging an academic endeavor that is ultimately positive reinforcement to the students? All this because of their negative attitudes towards the arts, the languages? It was a bitter pill to take. How then do we inculcate all round values as a profession to the students we teach if objectivity is lost among us and subjectivity and discipline bias is our badge? He recalled in the previous year when it materialized,amid all these challenges, on the day of, other classes were scheduled during the show. Another clown decided to collect funds for another drive that put off some students from attending the show. Pitiable.

On this day, she carried herself like a true lawyer,with her head held high and her shoulders straight up. Lacking, occasionally,was merely the proper attorneys’ regalia,no peruke;this was no court,no moot either, it was a debate. And she came correct. Intelligibly, she was at war,the battle was pitched, lines drawn;dresses and skirts had no place. Her choice was a trouser suit, like a man,black with a sky blue top. No heels either, flat black shoes, leather.  Her hair was crisp,cut into a sublime afro, accentuated by a well done hairline. She was lurid, she was impressionable. He was impressed. He’d heard,by chance, about this debate,whose theme, no doubt, excited his interest much like an expectant mother in labor: Celebrating Family Diversity. This subject,he found intriguing. He set a date,fate did the rest. He wasn’t there when it begun,duty called. Working was a drag, with his attention divided and all, but he pulled through and got the debate in its final motion. He walked in, silently, careful not to draw attention, cautious like a leopard, reminiscent of his context. They were attentive. The ultimate argument was just about to begin. He picked his spot,like Sheldon,and sat,his spirit enthusiastic. Let the fun begin,he rubbed his palms inadvertently and almost wet his lips. The finalists were introduced,the MC, a middle aged man with notable white hair and a goatee ushered them in to a rapture of applause and hurrah. The judges waved at the audience,the debaters bowed and curtseyed and it kicked off. ‘ Feminism is incompatible with Marriage – in the context of the contemporary society, oh! How fitting! Let the games begin! The set up was pristine.They were beautiful.

Seated, his focus selfishly converged,fully immersed at the podium,he caught a glimpse of her, right as she walked in the hall. Methinks, she has a penchant attainment. He turned to look at her precisely at the same time she did, their gaze locked as she walked towards him,with grace and form and confidence intertwined. She cracked a smile,as he did. There was a moment of lost awareness,just a brief moment. He stood up, to stretch a greeting and instead got a caring embrace,a lovely smile and genuine care. She was there. She sat on the ushered seat next to him. What a coincidence. They exchanged short pleasantries and joys in low tones and before engulfing themselves into the debate, to spice up that experience,amidst the arguments and expressions, a wager was placed. Who was going to win? I bet on the proposers,she didn’t commit. There were little sentiments in between,repartees,flattery and mockery as the contestants responded to each other. There was this girl, clearly a rich kid,who was more entertaining than them all,she threw more gestures and facials, fists and points than arguments. She was loud and articulate though,she probably went to good schools. This was homestretch,they both put their best forward. She ended up on the losing side, I won the bet. The winners were awarded,one debater,in the proposing team,particularly, stood out. Tall,slender with a towering afro on his head,he gave Denzel vibes in The Great Debaters. He stole the show. He was brilliant. They were all magnificent.

The closing ceremony did not last long. Sanctimonious speeches by the Inter-Universities hierarchy were kept short. Sholei was in attendance… After such an exhilarating day,the organization had planned a meal at Kisumu Hotel,something to cap off an intriguing event. The dinner was set in an hours time. There was time. Time and attention are a storyteller’s forte, even more so to a writer. I envy his luck. There’s something colloquial about people who wear glasses,shades especially I must add. They give eerie vibes much to my suspicion. It makes for a good mask, a facade if we must call it. It’s a sneaky form of make up that is seldom spoken about yet it’s importance is it’s triviality-like a clown. You ever got this feeling before, like you are talking to different persons with and without spectacles? Or that feeling of difference when they respond by lowering their ‘specks’ or worse even,take it all out? Like that was them before,and this is me now,here we are-kind of experience. The ‘look down’ effect also comes in when they do that. It gives me the yips. Argh! Nevertheless, this was too good an opportunity to pass. He had urge,he had desire and chance, karma dealt him a fair hand and he played it like a pro.

“Was it a date? Or was it just two random aquintances, sitting on a tree…?’ I asked him chuckling. 

“Well,it wasn’t. She had no dress but I sure did enjoy my time with her. And it’s been long since. She is something,Bob. Great company,not funny but fun to be with, smashing conversationalist,smart,witty,spicy. I could write a book.”

To ensure his conversation with Becky would not be interrupted,he turned off his phone. He chose picked the table and drew her seat,like an English gentleman,who said chivalry is dead? He sat her with her back against the world. It was just the two of them. They bested their opponents in ‘ Assuming it’s possible to safely and easily move foetus into artificial wombs,the house believes that women should have a right to abortion ‘ but were finessed in ‘ This house supports the decision of the pope to support same sex marriages ‘. They bowed out in the quarter finals. She conceded. Quoi qu’ Il en soit, they did their best. A good man knows when he is beaten. A better one learns from his loss and lives to fight another day. Or in this case,a woman! Ashakum! He was jealous.How he wished he was a participant? Oh,how he wished?

Father was the shepherd with him being a man of the cloth and all. Born into such a heritage,the third in a family of four kids,she grew up in a setting rich with solid Christian foundations. Named after her paternal grandmother, she believes,makes her relationship with his dad dear. He holds her mother close to his heart. She is daddy’s little girl. It augers that she was brought up with staunch Christian values, earnest virtues and considerable appreciation for humanity. She has grown exhibiting similar characters to his mum. Father is not an iron fist,he is more still-waters. He is deep. He still plays dad,as he should,to this day using the word in matters guidance,quoting the Bible in context and guiding like he is anointed. She had a good childhood and was educated fairly well. Her gratitude is infinite. Children rarely see the good in their parents early in life,they grow apart in their troubled years of early adulthood and in their youth, a kinder percepective certainly, like in my case,starts developing. The further you grow,the more one appreciates the roots of good parenting. The higher you go,the better the view. She is pretty close to mum though she admits she was periodically absent during most of her teenage years, work being the adversary here. Parenthood is difficult in this money driven economy. To outrun poverty in Kenya,and win against it,is as challenging as a one legged man trying to climb a mountain. One cannot blame an absentee parent grinding to meet their responsibilities. The balance is fractious. There was a guy. They got closer when she was expectant.

The buzz of excitement was so great in that company of debaters,some lawyers,some students and some simply debate enthusiasts. It was clearly a good festival and the food was extremely pleasing to the sense of taste, suffice to say the least. The aroma measured up. It was a banquet. This was repast with ‘the last supper’ kind of vibe. There was no appetizers,as if they were needed! They had worked up their cravings all day long, snacking once or twice during the breaks , a drink or two here and there but most had not eaten real food yet. There were curious looks and stares at them,at him, like he did not belong. He noticed,she did not. Awareness is his second nature. Was all that attention because he was alien? Was he too handsome? Was she too good for her? He was clearly a little older than them all. Maybe they just did not like sharing their food. Whatever it was,he cared little. He had the classic rice and chicken dish served in one skillet,well spiced, finger licking good. She had chicken biryani and a cider.I had passion. Kisumu Hotel is an ambience. His choice,he felt was grimaced. He felt emasculated, a men-eat- ugali kind of expression. He felt violated. He was all man,he had muscles to flex and beards to show. If further evidence was required,he was not opposed to the proposition. She was all feminine.All the while, there was music,sweet music,house music,played softly, romantically. It was lounging-not loud, tranquil. She is well mannered in table etiquette. The English royalty sure do think of all manners. It was dark already. Who cared? See Hama Tuma’s’ Who Cares for The New Millennium’.

A certain Somebody was in attendance when a proud father, at the alter, delivered quite the sermon. He followed it up with a generous avalanche of blessings and praises,all towards his daughter. He had attended the Annual General Meeting at her school,where she was called upon to perform an item. That piece,won her first prize , best solo verse performance at the annual Kenya National Drama Festival 2018 feted at Lenana School, Nairobi. Along with it came the best costume award,best decor and best presentation. It was an accolades galore for her. That honourable mention caught his attention. There was a rapturous round of applause. A couple of years later,he made his move. She never thought much of him beyond his interest. He was a drama teacher at a local school,he wanted her help to train his kids. She had much respect for him being that he was an esteemed youth leader. I’m guessing he must have had some charisma. She heeded the call. She says, in retrospect, she did not love him neither did she fall in love with him. Their interests bonded their association. A few dates here and there, a little fun and games and nature took it’s course. He was good to her and she was fallible, gullible to a point and naive even. Her knees went weak one night and Geoff made it to the promised land. It was a casual fling to her, nothing beyond the physical. Much ado. He pursues her to this day. He fell in love though. Who wouldn’t?These kids! Their union, pure or impure, got her ‘paged’.

Father was not pleased. Mother came closer. She was double due, Law School and delivery. School wasn’t going to wait, daddy’s little girl wasn’t little anymore. When the time came, having already been admitted to Egerton(The University), she screamed her way through labor and gave birth to little Geoff. They named him Malcom. Geoff was supportive all through . He held her hand. School is gard enough without a child yet she was a full time mother and a full-time student. It was hard. So hard. There were some days she felt like quitting, calling off the semester. The Help was helpful on Geoff’s payroll. He provided as much as he could but finances alone could not do the trick. There were headaches,back pains, sleepless nights… Assignments, deadlines,CATS and exams were hectic. She was freshman. There were nights she cried all her tears dry. There were nights she was flooded with joy. When it took it’s toll,her mum stepped in,dad in support. They took their grandchild to raise him themselves. It was not an easy decision. Her heart ached. She felt she had abandoned her kiddo. But it was necessary. Her boy calls her mum but is closer to his grandma.

A man can dream. A woman can dream bigger so they say. She got big ones,grande but not illusions of grandeur. She envisions a successful career in law with her being a lawyer and all. Perhaps a specialization in one of the many feminist fields,the good ones,if there’s any. She would love to have a family, something not so common among this generation of kids. Surprised. A husband is inferred strongly here. Preferably a whole man as was envisioned by God;a masculine man,a strong man,a leader,a provider,a protector,a romantic,a companion,a father like hers,a daddy to their kids,a role model,a teacher not in the professional sense but as someone one can learn from,an advisor,a listener,a guide,a counselor,an adventurer,a generous man,a thinker, an avid reader,a John Grisham lover perhaps… And everything nice kind of like suger and spice, the power puff blend that brings forth a man. Delusional! Let the poets dream I say! She does have an interesting take on marriage. She minds not monogamy but wouldn’t be opposed to polygamy if the situation necessitates,like if her profession were to make her an absentee wife to her husband and the husband raised the issue,she would be open to him getting another wife to be present provided she gets her rights unaffected. She must have been a Muslim babe in another life I suppose. Men who will read this,there you go… I just wrote about the perfect woman in an impractical world.

” Wow! Just wow!” He exclaimed. “That’s something Becky. Hell of a life! I’m sorry the show will not be able to materialize. Now what?” He asked. The glasses were off.

“No worries. Zero pressure Dan. I guess it’s just good vibes and… Inshallah.” She said, casually.

Most of them had vacated. Only one or two remained. It was almost midnight. His Uber had arrived. They walked out together,in silence. It was a good night. They parted ways,into the night they went. Under the warmth of Kisumu,under the night lights of the streets,he knew,like he knew on the first day they met. There was more to their story.

Aknowledgement:

• Juliet Noel Ayieko – the designated editor
• The story, Daniel and Rebecca or Dan and Becky

Am half sat,half laid on my bed wondering why Kenya Power has decided to retire me forcefully to bed this early. This darkness is thicker than Vera’s arse but the way. I can’t see a thing but I can hear plenty. Besides me is my rib,laid peacefully oblivious; oblivious of the fact that this darkness, after a long day at work,requires a mounting to set off the sleeping hormone. God I wish I could wake her. But si ni life majamaa. Am sure there are one or two couples out there who know what am talking about. This is not for single talk by the way.

Anywhoo,life goes on by the ticking clock,Coocko’s clock to be precise ( Damaris and the R.L. Stine Goosebumps fanatics can relate). Sleep alludes me most nights,I think I was meant to be nocturnal. For days on end now,I haven’t had much of it so I decided I will write a piece of my mind, however small,but I will write. Hope y’all out there just waiting to read my blog coz you are all in for a ride,not the cow girl kind of ride though… Oops! Here I go again, I forget, intentionally,this blog may one day be read by the people who matter most. Damn the internet.

She just twitched kidogo hapa,weeh so I got stop typing for a moment… Lest she think am chatting with the the love of my life. Bear with me,for a second or two 🕝🕑🕝🕑.

So,here we go… (Check Fabrizio Romano’s transfer news breaking.

I got off work earlier than required. For those who don’t know, Kisumu City (you know, because am a Luo) is so freaking hot. I fancy myself the English gentleman so despite the weather I have to put on a suit,full on with a powerful tie and we’ll polished shoes. My head,if you know me,is like ‘the $hinning’. It is well shaved,oiled and as some would say, would make for a good airport. I don’t mind the sayers,I know things about them too. Like one of them is so long,not tall, he receives messages directly from God! Another,ama acha tu,nkama nachoma! Normally,I would stay the time,but Leo ziii, I had to leave, silently. So I tiptoed past the boss’s office,evaded her two leautenants, manoeuvred through the crowd of colleagues and followed route B, headed straight to the gate.

Other days,maybe am not justified,but today, Leo I am. I have this sore throat,so deep,eh! It has been a pain in my arse since morning that was too much to bear. In the morning,I attended to my duties like a good soldier does and my intention was to see through the day despite this pain. That was my intention! As you already know, my intention was thwarted. Half goes the day,twice came the pain, but this time, the throat (this effing sore of a throat) decides to pick it up a notch. It even invites her big brother,let’s call him Headache. Now, Mr. Headache is a b**ch, na hiyo story imeishia hapo.

Am still psyching myself up at this time, the aluta continua – I shall make it through the day kind of psyche-up juu Mimi ni mwanaume and I can smash all the walls if there were any anyway, standing in my way. But Mr. Headache switched up, a little nitrous, and the throbbing went from Mimi ni mwanaume,to manze acha niache kujichocha msee! Am about to kubali matokeo,lakini ziiiiiiiiiii! Mi ni nani? Mi ni naniii?

I take a pair to go cool Mr Headache. While I wait for these little antidotes to work, I sit still. Not the kind of still you get in a mortuary freezer, the kind you get from a camouflaged predator hibernating in the winter. 20 minutes,30,40, my pair seems not to be working.

Enter the running nose 🐽🐽🐽 💦💦💦. WHAT THA FACT?!?!?

Now this I can’t compete with. Pua likaanza kunyesha,pouring like a stream. Shiiit! Hanky Leo umepata job. We all know, ladies and gentlemen,that when the water falls, everything gets wet, even the dry rugs. Hapa Sasa ndo intentions zkaanza kuyumbayumba man! Intention 1 says,’ Bob, you are a professional. See through your day. It’s only for 2 more hours🤣’. Intention 2 popps up,wild as hell,’ Si lazima Buda,we jitoe. Ukicalas hapa Leo unadhani gava itakukumbuka. Soon as umegenya, casualty inaandikwa, replacement anakam na daboo kama safo na hiyo story yako imedie’ wueh!

Intention 1 is making a lot of sense,shida ni senses zangu hazikuwa rada by then but they managed to pick up Intention 2 coz manze hapa ni life and nothing makes more a- lotter-more sense than I2. Nkachomoka waks the way Jonah alitoka God kwa Bible,ni vile tu instead of a whale in the waters,ilkuwa route 11. And voila! Am here.

Kenya Power manzee nkama hawataki nimalize hii story. Phone is dying,2+bonus % ndo nasurvive nayo. Babe Ako sleep mmbayaa. Naskia jirani nkama wameamua Leo wanakesha wakingoja Kenya Power ibehave. Mi pia nko tu hapa Sasa kama bat 🦇🦇🦇 iko wingless. If you are awake right now,👋. If you are asleep,goteka kabsaa coz I envy you. Acha nipambane na hali yangu hapa juu nkama better-half ni scam. In sickness and in health ni bafu chafu. And by the way, story ya English gentleman ni bafuuu mbaaya! Wanaonijua wanajua the only thing I love about The English is Manchester United.

Peace ✌️✌️✌️.

I thought she was a mermaid the first time I laid eyes on her. She was partly immersed in the water and all I could see was her waist up. She was a beauty. No, she was more than beautiful. She had that devilish beauty that led Adam astray, that which has fallen great men of the earth. I am a great man. I watched her close, admired her even. As she played in the water, I played too. I have never been a good swimmer, and as I could see, neither was she. But I could not stop looking at her. She had on a flowery mosaic costume, dominated by red and blue. It was silk and knotted around her back. She had brown braids, thick woven brown braids pony-tailed to the back of her head. Then, she was a mermaid. Or so I thought.

It was the tail end of the short mid semester break. We were at Nyali Beach where myself and three of my workfellows linked up to wash away the wear and tear of the previous semester as we prepared for the final term of the year. The day before, I had been part of a Badminton team that was eliminated in a tourney at Oshwal Academy. On our way to the beach, one among us had picked up two ladies to ride with us. They knew each other way back and this was their day to play catch up. Mitchelle was the other lady, unknown to us all. She came as a companion to the other lady. We also passed through a Wines and Spirits joint and picked up two six packs of beer, a Jack Daniels and Lime Water. Then off we set. The beach was my idea. This was my day in the sun and I intended to enjoy it fully.

While my colleagues chose to sit beachside and enjoy the drinks, I changed into my swim shorts and hit the waters. The sun was hot and the water was cold, it was the right weather for a day out there. It felt therapeutic. That’s when I saw her; she had ditched the company and got into the water. She was after her own good times. She was graceful and cool, and she swam like there was nobody else in the water. It was as if she was alone. Like the cares of the world mattered not to her at that moment. She caught my eye, and it was too late for me to take them off her. Yet she did not acknowledge my sight. She just went on about her swimming unmoved, unstirred and unaffected. And just like that, I was smitten.

I was anxious.

I followed her swimming radius like a stalker, hid my face among the other swimmers, buried my face in the water at times but never did I keep my eyes of her. And when she walked out of the water, I realized two things: that the water was not fun for me anymore and that she was not a mermaid.

One was drunk, another tipsy and another level-headed. His level head was essential, he was the designated driver. The lady was just tipsy; tipsy enough to laugh at my shrunk junk under my shorts. I took the joke, reddened, smiled and went to refresh. I got back to a photo shoot. Poses were posed, smiles smiled, cheers cheered and pictures taken. All the while, I stuck close to her but the drunk was all over her so I could not make my move yet. We left. She sat next to me in the car, yet nothing was said between us. Our ride to town was noisy, with periodic laughs and giggles. They were happy and we were just seated next to each other.

We had to drop the drunk and the two ladies because they were working in Mombasa before the rest of us proceed to Taita. The driver chose to stop at Oilibya Filling Station just infront of Sabasaba. Everybody alighted at once except the two of us. It was as if there was something lingering; unspoken. It was awkward and neither of us wanted to say a word. It was uncomfortable. I took my cell phone out my pocket and pretended to be busy browsing and I noticed she did the same. And it felt as if the uneasiness was not going to end. The conversation window was almost shutting when I heard the driver ask if everyone is set. Then, I spoke. I said hi. She said hi back and smiled and handed her my phone, on which she keyed in her number. She said her name is Mitchelle. And that was that. We all exited the vehicle on opposite sides. The pissers pissed, the shitters shit and I finally let out the bubble of fart I was holding back like an anxiety air balloon. We said our goodbyes, hugged casually and set off.

A typical journey from Mombasa to Taita takes two and a half hours. The journey was short. Fatigue struck as soon as we left and with it came a deathly sleep that carried me through till I got home. We made a pitstop at fast food restaurant before the drive up the Taita Hills. Took a shower, munched my food and caught some Z’s.

The sun rose and the sun set. The unremarkable routine of the session kicked in. We taught like worker bees, trained like soldiers, laughed like jokers and some weekends, partied like rock stars. The pictures were uploaded to a fun Whatsup Group created; I took some of them and put them on my face book page. They were celebrated with friends and strangers alike. Some days I reminisced about that weekend at Nyali, sometimes I remembered the sensation she caused me and sometimes I shrugged it off like a day gone, never to return. I was in a bad place when we met, and nobody knew it so that memory was light at the end of the tunnel; an instance of promise.

I reached out.

She was a free spirit with a cool demeanor, soft and realistic yet she possessed a calm aggression about her hidden at the back of her eyes; those big, attractive but deeply devilish eyes. She was born in a family of four, three sisters and a boy. Bred in Taita by a mother worthy of all praises she gave, she would beam every time she talked about her mom. And an absentee father who left without warning or a kiss goodbye (notice), only to resurface later in life when all kids are all grown. Last I checked, they are a family again. Props to her mom who held the family down and was still hospitable enough to take back the prodigal dad (son); no questions asked.

At first, we were casual about everything. A ‘Hi, howaz yo day?’ text followed by a prompt ‘heey, my day was fine, hw was yoz?’ That quickly changed to good morning and good night messages and further to calls every free time of the day. No time was limited for us. And all of a sudden, a day was dull without talking, and was better after a conversation with her. She was working in Mombasa as a receptionist at some firm whose name I cannot recall. She quit. Said she was frustrated. The pay did not match the work. And just like that she was jobless. It used to bug her. She has never been used to being idle. She went back home to Taita; home, closer to me. This was a sign.

For a lady who has worked since she finished high school, these were strange times. She left home to work not so much to her mother’s liking. She was against it, probably worried that she was still too young to face the world. She wanted to spread her horizons and make her money; be independent. She wanted her to stay home for a little bit more, to help her out and grow an inch. She did not want to stay home doing nothing. She thought she was little. She was determined. A small argument ensued, not the breaking glasses type of argument, not the throwing tantrums kind either. It was a reasonable one. She wanted the finer things in life that her mum could not provide and she did not want to make her break her back to buy her the accessories of life. So, just like that, she won and left. This was the first time she was back home jobless.

Her African name means to tie, or to bind. And by this time, true to her name it seemed to me that I was bound to her like a spell. You know those witches spells that link your whole self to someone else and then your fates are intertwined; the ones we read about in Vampire Diaries and Harry Potter. Her other name, because she is African (and Africans for some reason almost always have three names, save for Luos who are more African than the rest) means She is from another land. At this point, she looked sent from heaven. And no, she doesn’t have that angelic beauty written in fairytales, she is chocolate brown; a petit little pretty face with the charm- aroma of fine wine. I have a penchant for brunettes.

We went out a couple of times. She loves pork. She could eat a whole pig if her stomach was big enough. We hanged out on weekends and end of days. She loved music, I did too. She loved soccer, I did too. She was charming, I am too. And we grew fond of each other like to beans in a pod. I fell in love with her. What made me fall for her? A conversation. We had a small misunderstanding. I was wrong and she stood her ground and did not back down. She was strong. She was proud. She was independent. I remember she was so self assured and assertive that I forgot about our differences and realized she was the real deal. She was there, and I could not take her. I wanted to, but I couldn’t.

I had a girlfriend then.

Perhaps this is a story for another day.

Nandi was performing at Moonshine in Mombasa on the night of 31st December and we had planned to go usher in the New Year with Mitchelle. We did not make it. She convinced me not to go. We had planned to start a business with her In January so she said it would have been better to save that money for the business. So we all slept in and called it a year.

The business took off well. Mitchelle knows her stuff. The sun went down and back up. Tragedy stroke at work, two colleagues passed away. One who was a close friend. The lady was a victim of breast cancer discovered too late and wrong diagnosis. The close friend collapsed at his home at night and died. She left a widower and a child and he left a widow and two kids; both infants. It was a dull January for us all. Leah sat her examinations. Funerals were arranged. We moaned, we got broke, we buried and we tried to heal. The business was good.

The business was going so well that Mitchelle had to get her own place. We met weekends but time was limited. She was doing well and because of my work commitments, I could not audit the business or manage it. The money we clocked in January was used to aid her house but then February the money coming in started being irregular. And the trend was poor. I noticed and asked for records which she did not avail. I suspected she was faking the records and siphoning money for her own selfish gains. I confronted her and she did not take it well. She threatened to leave, two weeks later she made good her threat and left.

I saw the hurt in her when we met especially after the business took off. In one of our heart to heart, I told her I was in a relationship. She listened. She saw that I was not happy and asked why I had not walked away from that unfulfilling union. I said I had not gotten the opportunity. I could tell she felt for me. She was single. She had previous relationships that had not worked out so well. They were more sexual than intimate. She had never fallen in love and she had never loved before. She was vulnerable with me. I was to propose to her after breaking up with my girl. I promised myself I would. I wanted to be as noble a man as I could be.

One conversation that got me during our good times was about how she broke her virginity. It was not her will. When she left home to work, she got a job as a waitress at a Sunderland Hotel at Wundanyi. She had to move in with a cousin in her maiden days. It was all work and no play, but she was not a dull lady. Being the dolly bird she is, guys were after her a lot. She was not into any of them. Her cousin had a boyfriend who would sleepover some of the time. One night her boyfriend came with a friend as they got into it in the other room, the friend advanced. She did not want to, but she was pinned down. She was susceptible. Next thing she knew was her screaming as the guy pushed into her. In a court of law, that is rape. Statutory. Perhaps this was one the fears her mother had.

I went to check the books. They confirmed what I suspected. The records did not match the remittance I had been receiving. I was heartbroken. I was beset. I was taken aback. I trusted her and she messed me up. The thin line that separates love from hate broke. I closed the shop and picked everything that was mine. It was shitty. I tried to reach out but she did not stretch her hand. It was bad. I had to involve the police to get her to talk. And when I picked my stuff I went home, disappointed and broken, I slept a nap of relief. When I got up, I wrote her one farewell message. We have never spoken ever since.

One time, in one of those intimate nights, when all the cares of the world were unknown to us, when we locked the world out and it was just the two of us, I googled the different types of kisses. She was intrigued. It was exciting to learn all of them. And when she left the next day, I kissed her on her forehead and she said that was everything.

This new age, the 21st century marriage
Is a bitter-sweet tale of lots of baggage,
A man and a woman in it shall one join,
With vows of promise to be said in vain,
Till death do us part in sickness and health,
(In truth, not in porverty but only in wealth),
Marriage is now a mirror with a diff image,
A mundane union, a sealed – open cage,
Love is no more but a four lettered word,
Hollow, its meaning insignificant and bad,
Here, privileges have meanings changed,
Sayings are weighed to whom they ‘re said,
Matrimony is meaningless, fake and empty,
It is null as it is void, even, surplus and petty

It is not a ceremony unique to man and wife,
But a feast for former lovers ‘nd new admirers,
The married are certified to live, to make life,(Later)
Others seeked, invited in, to eat his and hers,(and)
Without shame, they do share nuptial favours,
With others, friends, strangers and neighbours,
Then they back at home masked in faithfulness,
And eat and laugh; and love in their pretences,
In their nest so they lie feigning false innocense,
Safe; knowing inside their loyalties are diverged,
Hoping outside, their marriages make sense,
In this age I live; I too have in all sincerity judged,
The married are unfaithfuls, cheats and infidels,
Couples unioned and accursed to be scoundrels

Flesh beauty is the account for todays marriage,
(so)Men no longer quest after the inner beauty,
Just like women do not scour for hubbies with sage,
To women, the ideal one is a man wealthy,
What makes him attractive is how rich they are,
What makes her perfect is her level of pretty,
With their beauties’ satisfied; they be, they are,
They woo each other to court, then they love,
Proposition is quick, slow is the walk down the isle,
Mutual fooling that what they want, they have,
A wedding, as good as bad and as sweet as bile,
A false union coupled with subjective desires,
Marriage not for love; an utterly delusive impression,
Not for companionship either; a silly illusion

A hitch for two arises new inevitable relationships,
The new families’ bound are ringed; zipped,
To yield a new union causing newly weds the yips,
Prompting a queasiness heartily dipped,
Good to both ends is selfish in their eyes appeal,
Thence; attitudes become opinionated, (Opinions)
That may well turn weded scores scores to nil,
A perfect perfect to unquestioned rejected,
Simple sentiments ripple, crack and crumble,
Todays’ marriages that are lose and unfirm,
Do easily succumb to break the sacred gamble,
Of many contemporary weds in plural sum,
It be accurate to state, most are so premature
These spousals; planted they grow fewer

Short lasts the joys of new couples I dare say,
For harmony soon abandons their raw house,
Disrespect; a usual catalyst in marriages many,
Regards wane quick unique to either spouse,
Prompt intuit fruits their wrong reasons for wedlock,
What happens when loving traits fade away?
When he is away too often that you never talk?
When to you, her beauty, her looks; decay?
When his job is lost and the money stops coming?
What happens then, when she gains a pound?
You both awaken, twaz not real just puppy loving,
An infatuation that ended with you two bound,
You hate, you detest; You lose you own respect,
You regret that what you did was stupid in effect

They meet, the laugh,they court; in love they fall,
They proclaim, they propose, they tie the knot,
They come together in ceremony; its one big ball,
The beginnings so flowery, tears of joy are a lot,
Into this new world, everything changes their views,
Appearances different; and they are all threats,
Damn! his girl friends are prettier; insecurity brews,
Crap! Her boy friends are men! Jealousy begets,
Then you worry; you always wonder where they are,
Where they came from? What they did at the bar,
It finally dawns; that neither of you trusts the other,
You resign to fate that your love was the blinder,
To a precarious and unpeaceful union under siege
Yet its too earty, too late to cut or cross the bridge

In this age,matrimony is not as it is meant to be,
A unique institution ordained by many a religion,
Where man and wife are bind together; one in re,
Reference to love, companionship and affection,
So deep, and true, and faithful to let love beget,
All emotions in it for its lovers to consummate,
With passions so real, so geniune, so sincere,
To know; in marriage love is greater than fear,
That in it; Loves complement their loves, dear,
Understanding the times, bad and good, clear,
Crystal unwavered by the blur of the mirage,
Knowing a spouse, is the crown of friendship,
The apex; the holder of a relationship badge,
In marriage; the monarchs of all relationship

1

I awaken to open my eyes to a new day,
The way a day begins with a new dawn,
My first steps into my new love sashay,
Am happy like a child seen a birthday clown

I smile at the image staring from the mirror,
My reflection, the face of radiance and gaiety,
Last night’s imagery in mind still ripe and clear,
The girl of my dreams is my thoughts’ modesty

I’ve buried my long past and painful pleasure,
The love and loves that left me broken hearts,
Till I met an angel; a gift better than a treasure,
She now owns my heart and she loves my arts

She caused me tears, pain beyond measure,
For two bitter years, I was in a love vacuum,
Lovelorn among peers, in a lonely love seizure,
A bleak love life was all my future could assume

Oh lovely Damaris, what went awfully wrong?
Oh gorgeous Ruthie, dint you and I belong together?
Oh precious Faith, dint I sing you a love song?
All relationships gone sour, will I be alone forever?

I wooed her with the specialness of a first kiss,
And treated her with respect accorded to a queen,
I dazzled her with stories showing what love is,
And blissfully, she showed me love I’ve never seen

Saw her first under the stars on my birthday night,
And I thanked nature for giving me the gift of sight,
With a prayer, I appreciated God’s creative present,
An angel in my presence, I knew she was heaven sent

Into her eyes was the vision of what love looks like,
A calm, sincere, serene and lovely special glance,
Her image was so picturesque, it aroused my psyche,
To this day, am grateful that she gave me a chance

She smiled with the charm of a ladies’ first date rose,
And I beamed back with a sincere grin of amusement,
She fed me my cake bite and wiped cream of my nose,
All that seemed like a fairy’s dream under the crescent

Oh last night is unforgettable; so bizarre, so fantastic,
Like winning a jackpot with a million other players,
The picturesque of a couple’s picture wed and iconic,
A rain of rose petals breaking scenery for viewers

                                        2

I wipe my face with a white napkin as I return to bed,
White presenting the innocent purity of our matrimony,
Scattered roses portraying colorful vows that we said,
We embrace to kiss, and ‘I love you’ comes in harmony

The kiss reminds us the taste of how sweet love is,
Of the story that led us to this feeling of heavenly bliss,
From love at first sight to alter utters of ‘I do’,
So I say I love her and she says ‘Bob, I love you too’

Sweet sounds the words of love spoken in her voice,
I crack a smile; my love is my happiness and joy,
My feeling is beatitude; and felicity my only choice,
I look into her eyes and my beautification is coy

A peck on my cheek, she rests her head on my chest,
As I stroke her left arm, she listens to my heart beats,
I escape briefly to solitude; my return to reality is haste,
I had missed my darling, and so had my thoughts’ fleets

My head is active; my imagination is wealthy rich,
Visions are interactive, to what end will we reach?
As married, dead or alive, will ever our love end?
Sweet as honey in a hive, in love we know to blend

As I feel her warm breath airbrush my chest hairs,
The sensation is ticklish as the air bristles smoothly,
My dearest is sound asleep dreaming family affairs,
And I am awake, counting my blessings thankfully

She looks up at me, passion glowing in her eyes,
Couple tears drops of joy flowing down her cheeks,
Still looking at her, she cracks a smile and sighs,
I say to myself that she is the best of all my flicks

And yet love is like matter, heated, it evaporates,
Attraction like paint, after sometime, fades away,
She and I, we dazzle in sync, a love that cooperates,
Seeing her everyday reminds me of my best birthday

She rises to get us a present, a Bordeaux Red wine,
And joins me in bed, we cheer for her love and mine,
I missed her last night though we dint get much sleep,
A tear drop before I slept, for my love and joy did weep

Since my birthday, I thought of you each and every day,
Oh! Since Then I show you my love in each and every way,
To date, I know not if it’s what I did, or what I still say,
Wanders I have, questions too, but all my love to you I lay

                                                3

Oh! How bright is today? How clear now is my way?
My mind is refreshed, my thoughts know not of Faith,
My poetry is new, my rhymes are not meant for Fay,
My songs are melodious, my love and feelings are gay

My Love calls out to me, ‘Breakfast is served Honey’,
I rush to dine, no food and she’s seated on the table,
Oh, my Love played me a fool, a joke, ‘Love is funny!’,
‘No, I am’ she says, ‘And my kiss is as sweet as honey’

Am hungry, so I take a kiss and her aroma is sensual,
Her nakedness is newly amazing; I get a racy arousal,
So, like lovers, we get together, in mind, body and soul,
Deep in love, we enjoy lovers’ world, me and my angel

What is better than love, which is greater than my Love?
I pray for answers from the great one in heavens above,
My Amen coincides just with her yoga sprout like clove,
I open my eyes to a new apprehension; it is only her love

As we do seat to enjoy a married couples’ first breakfast,
My Love is my satisfaction, and forever she will come first
The juice is sweetly fruity and the conversation is lovely,
The beach is sandy, the day sunny and the mood is lively,

She smiles at me, giving me the good gift of morning glory,
If she be a sin, then I gracefully accept her as my life’s folly,
For this feeling of loving her is also of so, too much dear joy,
We two make a love alloy, and our love is neither shy or coy

She makes a castle and draws ‘I love you’ art on the sand,
I am glad, so I add ‘too’ to the end of her felicitous words,
She leans on me as we hear the songs played by the band,
She warms up to me, and I to her, our love is out of words

Our love is more than special; it is magical and glamorous,
To me she comes above all, so comforting is her presence,
She is my heart and soul; she makes me loving ‘nd amorous,
She is everything, my all; her love makes my life make sense

With her, my world is a paradise, a sweet episode in heaven,
She is why love seems so nice, like a gift that is God-given,
She‘s beautiful as she is wise, her favorite number is eleven,
For they make two one’s, a couple, she is my personal Zen/ a gem to all men

So, like the sun shines bright at noon, so does her skin glow,
And her eye white like the full moon, she makes us leave soon,
Saying she’s hungry and wants to take very delicious food,
She pulls me up with a kiss, leading me to our honeymoon

                                               4

Sighs of pleasure hasten, she clinches to me like an octopus,
In explosive ecstasy, I feel the wonderful experience in us,
My wish is this moment of love in sync never comes to pass,
For making love brings a special feeling of delight upon us

So the story begins, ‘Once upon a time I met my true love, Bob’,
‘At night, he was my angel, my long awaited prince charming’
‘He took my breath away; I thanked both Cupid and my Lord!’
‘For they brought me an adorable deity, a treasure and a god’

‘A man’s love so great, yet mysterious as an unknown thought’,
‘With a personality as attractive as the opposites of a magnet’,
‘And gifted a tenderheartedness that is every woman’s sought’,
‘A perfect man, an icon of loving appeal never met or seen yet’

‘A guy with a touch as smooth as the warmth of a tender kiss’,
‘Style is as colorful and fiery as a banquet of red roses’ bliss’,
‘With words as sweet and calming like the solitude of peace’,
‘A collection of good, nice and lovely virtues put into one piece’

‘Bob, the English say “a bird in hand is worth two in the forest”,
‘Also, this love we have in us is worth everything in a bird’s nest’,
‘After our honeymoon I hope our home will be like a bird’s nest’,
‘We’ll go to a place where east or west, home will always be best’

‘I know you are my love, so too, are you, my beautiful destiny’,
‘You are so amazing; sometimes I do think you are my love genie’,
‘You make everything seem special and magical however tiny’,
‘I’ll be with you till death if only you promise to forever love me’

‘Your birthday was a lovely rendezvous, oh where we first met!’,
‘I was unstable and I slipped, fell in love and landed on your feet’,
‘At your feet, I look up to you, and all this love seems like fate,’
And now am happy with you, Bob, Our love is like a good fete’

‘Love; since we met we have made our memories unforgettable’,
‘We’ve explored our affection, our endearment is also admirable’,
‘Since you came along my heart is graceful, it feels well at peace,’
‘In all truth, you’ve made me happy and, taught me what love is’

‘The best thing about my life is that I and my love are together,’
‘Bound in love, in marriage and a promise to live in love forever,’
‘Love is like a gift from God, to the giver and also to the receiver’,
‘I will always love you Bob, and thanks a lot to Cupid’s love favor’

Oh my love! I now know why my last relationship dint last long,
Because this love that we have is sweet as a soothing love song,
Your words have warmed my heart; love is a song I’ll sing along,
We are like poetry, we have rhythm and rhyme, just like a song

                                                   5

I have to say, ‘With you my love, every day is a lovelier day’,
‘Thanks to you Honey, I love you better in each and every way’,
‘My feelings are overflowing, about you I have so much to say’,
‘Yet even with words unspoken, I still have a lot about you to say

‘My Love, you are my cloud of hope and my silver lining too’
‘I wake up every day and besides me I see my morning star’,
‘You are my daylight sunshine; all I love is us, a coupled two’,
‘Two made one, to shine like a single star; love without a blur’

‘There’s thin line between love and hate, so it has been said,’
‘But is there a line between love and love, Should I be afraid?’
‘To hate you is an emotion my love thinks and cares least for’,
‘Loving you is my love life’s sole purpose, glad to love you so’

‘I’m not so much a dreamer yet my dreams are coming true’,
‘I have all I want, my happiness lights up when I look at you’,
‘You cultivate my love whims; you appear always in dreams’,
‘And when I do sleep to wake, to find you, my love so beams’

‘What more shall I say, about my girl, my love, and my wife’,
‘What book shall I write, with the story of the love of my life’,
‘What poem shall I recite the words of love and what I have’,
‘Give me a verse to site, and I’ll thank God for this gift of love’

‘Oh! My Juliet, you are the secret definition of love at its best,’
‘Mine is a love to you as sacred as the alter illumination of light,’
‘So for your love I quest daily like a gold diggers deep interest,’
‘And like a multi-colored rainbow, you do make my love smite’
‘Bestowed upon our love is my hopes and dreams in fruition’,
‘This has been, since getting your love became my mission’,
‘Having you now means am fulfilled, my life is great success’,
‘I am content ‘nd grateful for filling my life with loving grace’

‘The beginning of our marriage is my love in continuation’,
‘It hasn’t thinned a bit, it hasn’t grown an inch, it is the same,’
‘Before it was love, now it’s still love in a wed dimension’,
‘We are unique in being but love is the identity of our name’

‘With Faith, I was the proverbial stone the builder rejected’,
‘The lover who watched the ballerina perform for audiences’,
‘She was good, always on top, but upon me, she looked down’,
‘With you, I feel like the queen’s tiara and the kings’ crown’

‘I feel like I’ve never loved before, yet I have loved before,’
‘And this feeling is so special; it sure feels as good as new’,
‘The past is passed, my Love,’ tis our love that I do live for’,
‘Til death do us part, I will love you forever with great hue’

3

Oh! How bright is today? How clear now is my way?
My mind is refreshed, my thoughts know not of Faith,
My poetry is new, my rhymes are not meant for Fay,
My songs are melodious, my love and feelings are gay

My Love calls out to me, ‘Breakfast is served Honey’,
I rush to dine, no food and she’s seated on the table,
Oh, my Love played me a fool, a joke, ‘Love is funny!’,
‘No, I am’ she says, ‘And my kiss is as sweet as honey’

Am hungry, so I take a kiss and her aroma is sensual,
Her nakedness is newly amazing; I get a racy arousal,
So, like lovers, we get together, in mind, body and soul,
Deep in love, we enjoy lovers’ world, me and my angel

What is better than love, which is greater than my Love?
I pray for answers from the great one in heavens above,
My Amen coincides just with her yoga sprout like clove,
I open my eyes to a new apprehension; it is only her love

As we do seat to enjoy a married couples’ first breakfast,
My Love is my satisfaction, and forever she will come first
The juice is sweetly fruity and the conversation is lovely,
The beach is sandy, the day sunny and the mood is lively,

She smiles at me, giving me the good gift of morning glory,
If she be a sin, then I gracefully accept her as my life’s folly,
For this feeling of loving her is also of so, too much dear joy,
We two make a love alloy, and our love is neither shy or coy

She makes a castle and draws ‘I love you’ art on the sand,
I am glad, so I add ‘too’ to the end of her felicitous words,
She leans on me as we hear the songs played by the band,
She warms up to me, and I to her, our love is out of words

Our love is more than special; it is magical and glamorous,
To me she comes above all, so comforting is her presence,
She is my heart and soul; she makes me loving ‘nd amorous,
She is everything, my all; her love makes my life make sense

With her, my world is a paradise, a sweet episode in heaven,
She is why love seems so nice, like a gift that is God-given,
She‘s beautiful as she is wise, her favorite number is eleven,
For they make two one’s, a couple, she is my personal Zen/ a gem to all men

So, like the sun shines bright at noon, so does her skin glow,
And her eye white like the full moon, she makes us leave soon,
Saying she’s hungry and wants to take very delicious food,
She pulls me up with a kiss, leading me to our honeymoon

                                     2

I wipe my face with a white napkin as I return to bed,
White presenting the innocent purity of our matrimony,
Scattered roses portraying colorful vows that we said,
We embrace to kiss, and ‘I love you’ comes in harmony

The kiss reminds us the taste of how sweet love is,
Of the story that led us to this feeling of heavenly bliss,
From love at first sight to alter utters of ‘I do’,
So I say I love her and she says ‘Bob, I love you too’

Sweet sounds the words of love spoken in her voice,
I crack a smile; my love is my happiness and joy,
My feeling is beatitude; and felicity my only choice,
I look into her eyes and my beautification is coy

A peck on my cheek, she rests her head on my chest,
As I stroke her left arm, she listens to my heart beats,
I escape briefly to solitude; my return to reality is haste,
I had missed my darling, and so had my thoughts’ fleets

My head is active; my imagination is wealthy rich,
Visions are interactive, to what end will we reach?
As married, dead or alive, will ever our love end?
Sweet as honey in a hive, in love we know to blend

As I feel her warm breath airbrush my chest hairs,
The sensation is ticklish as the air bristles smoothly,
My dearest is sound asleep dreaming family affairs,
And I am awake, counting my blessings thankfully

She looks up at me, passion glowing in her eyes,
Couple tears drops of joy flowing down her cheeks,
Still looking at her, she cracks a smile and sighs,
I say to myself that she is the best of all my flicks

And yet love is like matter, heated, it evaporates,
Attraction like paint, after sometime, fades away,
She and I, we dazzle in sync, a love that cooperates,
Seeing her everyday reminds me of my best birthday

She rises to get us a present, a Bordeaux Red wine,
And joins me in bed, we cheer for her love and mine,
I missed her last night though we dint get much sleep,
A tear drop before I slept, for my love and joy did weep

Since my birthday, I thought of you each and every day,
Oh! Since Then I show you my love in each and every way,
To date, I know not if it’s what I did, or what I still say,
Wanders I have, questions too, but all my love to you I lay