Wind of Love
Flowers and fruits to a mango tree
Are her beauty and class.
A show of her fertility,
An exhibition of her products.
Fruits, love it when they hang on the branches
Like monkeys playing as kids
To the delight of their parents.
But, there comes a time when
There beauty attracts a passerby,
Especially the one they love,
Then, the wind of love blows them down
Into the palms of the passerby,
Who eventually becomes a family member
By the art and science of agriculture.
Uncle, those memories of you and I,
You and us, though old
But they are still very young
In the skeleton of my thoughts.
We still love and cherish you
But someone who does a bit more
Has come into the picture,
The picture we pleaded heaven for.
My love for you, our love for you
Is still attached like the strings of a guitar,
But here comes a better guitarist.
She who can strike the right chords in you,
The Juliet that can bring out the Romeo in you.
The Queen that can bring out the King in you.
Words may fail me but my alphabets
Of great wishes for you still flows
A waterfall of goodness.
Many have brought there present and presence
And will be going home with souvenirs.
But my present to you is that
You stick yourself to the Bible
Even as the bedbug hugs the bed.
God is love, love is God.
For you to be the best husband,
Then, love God and your wife will be a jewel.
The only souvenir I need from you
Is to be a "sweetheart" that your wife will be proud of.
I love you, Uncle.
But at this point, she loves you more.
Copyright © Otatane-Oso Andrew | Year Posted 2016
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