Friday, October 9, 2020 2:45 pm
By Uzor Maxim Uzoatu
My Darling Sunshine:
I hope you are swimming in the ocean of good health. If so, doxology!
You are the only sugar in my tea, the sum of all my arithmetic, and above all else, the only coat in the portmanteau of my heart.
In short, if I am a sentence, you are the verb!
The light of your soul burns in my heart like the Bunsen burner in the chemistry laboratory. You are my morning star.
Whenever I think of you, my heart shakes jigijigi like railway.
If you approach, I go very weak in the knees with the joyful sickness of love.
Without you I am finished, patapata!
If I look at the sun, I see you; if I look at the moon, I see you. In fact, you are everywhere, smiling at me like sunshine.
Kai, I will simply die and bury myself inside the cemetery of your tender love.
Mine is yours forever and ever.
Even as I write now, I can feel you inside my skull dictating all the verbs and nouns, the adverbs and proverbs.
Loving you is the only geometry I want to solve.
Both of us are like simultaneous equations leading to only one answer: eternal happiness.
We were created for each other by the one true God.
You are indeed the bone of my bone, the flesh of my flesh, and the blood of my blood.
You are my oxygen, the air of life and living.
Without you I will expire in very fast seconds, kaput!
My heart is so safe in the safe of your bosom.
You are a guardian angel specially made in Heaven and celebrated on earth.
I can feel your charming love in every petal and in all the flowers of the whole wide world.
There is only one sweetness in the whole universe, and that sweetness is you, my beloved sweetheart, my darling angel, my queen of love, my crystal of beauty, my body and soul.
I worship on the altar of your divine affection, singing soulful songs of soaring celebration.
I shall follow you to the end of the globe and back again.
There is no love in any other being other than you.
Let truth be told, you are the owner of love.
I live in the headquarters of love.
You are without any question whatsoever the landlady of love.
Every Funmi, Ngozi, Amina, Felicia or Jane is jealous of you.
They are all looking for ropes to hang themselves because of your hot love for only me.
Please pray for their poor souls: Amen!
You are the only soup I want to lick: morning, afternoon and night, every day.
My Tomato Jos, the juice of your love flows in all my veins.
My medulla oblongata throbs with your majestic presence.
You are my inspiration and my vision.
Without you, I am totally blind.
Baby Oku, you are hotter than all the models of the world.
Every bachelor bows before you, but you have only chosen me. Neither Shekau nor Boko Haram can abduct our love.
We are bound together like needle and thread.
There is no pain whatsoever in our firmament and hemisphere and stratosphere.
At this juncture, I wish to borrow the words of our favourite writer, Ogali A. Ogali, the doyen of Onitsha Market Literature, who in Veronica, My Daughter penned: “As I was descending from a declivity yesterday, with such an excessive velocity, I suddenly lost the centre of my gravity and was precipitated on the macadamized thoroughfare!”
It was the feeling of your soft love and sugary care that stopped my bones from being mercilessly broken.
I am so happy that you are not like Mabel in the book written by Speedy Erich entitled Mabel The Sweet Honey That Poured Away. You are my honey that can never pour away.
Even William Shakespeare knows that beautiful music is the food of our love; that’s why he wrote in Twelfth Night: “If music be the food love, play on, give me excess of it…”
I will die for you and wake up again for you.
The air you breathe nourishes me all the days of my life.
You are that one special reason to explain the existence of God, because only the Supreme Being can create the immortal beauty that you are.
Biko nu, where would I have been without your magnetic lovingitis? You are the last full-stop in the last sentence of the last chapter of the last book of my life.