, , , , ,

He gazes upwards to behold the sunlight hours
It feels so new and pregnant with optimism
He hopes for unsullied opportunities
Eyes tightly shut, he prays for her
With caterpillars sojourning in his heart,
He wishes her well

As he rises, he gazes about with swift darts
Colours lay a pageant before his eyes
But oh! The lady might love red…
He dashes into his restroom
Spends half a decade in the showers
Quarter a century in front of the mirror
Admiring ever so lovingly, his own image
Shaving every stray beard
Spraying all the cologne
And singing hymns of plea

His heart is chock-full of love for her
She gives him a rhythm so unfathomable
She’s a light in his heart
The end of his tunnel
His golden lining in the darkest cloud of helplessness
His only distraction

But how can nature be so cruel?
How can obsession engulf his existence?
How can he be so mightily blessed with a weakness?
Why is he so mousy?
How come he stutters?
How come he asks ‘how come’?

He determines rough edges be smoothened
Everything feels rightly wrong…
The caterpillars on a merry-go-round in his heart
His mind playing ‘gotcha’ with him
The invincible nightingale on the tip of his ear
The alcohol in the air
Everything seems magical to him
And with a final sigh…
He steps out of his home.

In the showers, she lets her thought speculate
How come nature tortures her?
What is missing in her?
The beautiful smiles? I doubt!
She steps out looking angelic
Nothing makes sense, but him
Oh, her hair! Not a stray strand must escape the bun!
She slips on her dress
‘Adonis could be away’ she thinks
‘Does he even care a smidgen?’ she wonders
He seems ever so resentful, unfriendly and unwilling!

She cares too much she can’t help it
She gives a finishing touch of blush
Her cheeks glow red with pain
With that, he might not notice the real and genuine
She praises it for a secret well hidden

The butterflies leave their endless sacks
They develop so rapidly
She has no hope at all
It seems there is no reason to live
But hey! She steps out
She makes the journey to her destination in sorrow
Sorrow dots her beauty
Nothing makes sense to her
She feels so ignored and sad

Thousands have washed her feet with their hair
They have worshipped her well
She adores none of them
But this one person she adores
Seems to be worshipping somewhere else
‘Why does it happen this way?’ she thinks
She feels dejected
Afflictions bow at her throne hastily
They render her true worship

It anticipates their coming
It sees their hearts
It feels their yearnings when they walk on it
Their giddy feet echo meaning to the road
Ever so mousy they are
Trying to hide in the open all the time
The road is powerful
‘Ona’ they call it
It reforms itself and their paths meet
From afar off, he beholds her physiognomy
The butterflies develop hastily
They fly joyfully out of his eyes
His heart beats like a ‘conga’ drum
His love grows and blossoms
It bursts in bloom and branches
Hanging out invincibly from his frail physique
But then he bleeds!
The road bleeds too!
He is concerned about that sorrow on her face

She sees him and becomes elated
Happy grief fills her heart
‘’This is the best we can be… friends’’ she thinks
She weeps unseen and unheard

The road contracts
They draw nearer
Their weaknesses hug them tightly
Alone in their world… they listen to nothing!
She speaks, he speaks…
No one hears…
No one listens!
They are both far away in their thoughts
They leave echo with the chore to remind
‘How do I tell her I love her?’
‘How do I tell him I care’?
How, how, how?
They stand there feeling both joy and pain
Neither can speak again
They become stammerers
They both try to hide the obvious
How possible can that be?
The lad dreads a disaster
The lass dreads a chaos
The road sighs…

It has been patient enough
It’s supposed to be a moving path
Those who stand on it to talk must be eloquent
They must not allow weaknesses pervade
It stretches itself and reshapes itself
…and they depart

Oh! That departure!
That fearful time in a man’s life
That thorny time that brings a minute’s madness
That ugly moment
A moment of pain and melancholy
Life….does not seem to be fair on them both.


Oh! After all the preparatory measures
How could I have failed to speak?
Weaknesses often bring so much vile
‘’I just wish she knew…’’

I should have known better
He cares not, he can’t be concerned
He probably wouldn’t, ever!
All he does leaves me in misery
‘’I wish he knew’’

When you cross a line
You are on the other side
Why is it such a difficult task for them?
I could only wish to elongate my patience
And so, words might have no need of actions
I wish they both could perceive…

© Moyosola Tugbobo, 2011

Moyosola Tugbobo is a freelance writer who lives in Lagos, Nigeria. She studies English (Arts) at the University of Lagos and blogs at http://mowyore.tigblog.org