Good Morning

It’s not the diabolic quiet of the night anymore, the reign of the moon with her army of stars are fading into an orange dawn. The crickets have stopped chirping. It’s the turn of the peacocks & cuckoos now signalling the bliss that they await. I squat still, my black skin cold & my wings still waiting for what they wait. Waiting for that drawbridge of darkness to lift, the daunting shadows of melancholy to retreat. And as the clouds make way, the sun emerges out the horizon like a colossal crystal.

I had a reason to stay still and wait all night, unlike the rest of others my reason was different, that reason was you. Your petals closed to the world, deep in the the green, reclusive, elusive and mysterious. Your fragrance that explodes the sky & showers droplets of rain. A fragrance that enamors a slave into a queen. A fragrance to live for, a fragrance to die for.

Winding the hands of the clock back in time, I hopped over blossoming flowers, some that faded before I squat on them, some whose juice got sucked out by other bees galore & some that reeked of narcissism & greed. And as I fluttered my wings hopelessly across the blue horizon, praying for respite, repenting for the sins. The benevolent almighty reciprocated with the best gift I could ever envisage of. I was directed into the phantasmagoria of a rainbow, a celestial sanctuary of hope & euphoria.

I fluttered my wings into that rainbow fueled by my last droplets of hope. And in it I saw you, bloomed out, your petals full of colors like the gorgeous rainbow all over me. I was flanked from all directions from the belligerent onslaught of your aphrodisiac fragrance until I unconditionally surrendered to your affection.

And here I am living in my own blissful cocoon, sheltered from the big bad world by your bewitching care. Here I am waiting for the rays of the crimson sun to touch your petals. Here I am anticipating the dream, a dream that the first droplets on your glorious petals would be my tears, a dream that should the earth get scorched dry, I’d water your roots with my blood. A dream where I’d flood your neighborhood with the aura of my love. Here I am waiting for your petals to open so I can get obscured in the phantasm of your elegance. Here I am lying next to you waiting for your big beautiful eyes to open.

Good morning Shona. I love you.