Tick, tock, Tick, tock,
my pupils steadily follow,
the hands of the clock,
like a primary school teacher.
One question running through my mind.
Why did Irene have to be the daughter of a preacher?
The journey to find an answer,
almost pushing my heart to a seizure.
Will she ever call me Kube,
without the title brother?
The echo of that title within me,
anytime she says it, is such a bother.
It is not like we have one mother.
makes my future plans for her,
Every step I take in making my feelings known,
ends up pointless like a truncated cone.
What do I do?
How do I get to call her my boo?
Out of the blue,
an idea pops up.
I will write her a letter.
Let me get my love letter tool box,
for i am heir to the throne of Shakespeare in Kube kingdom.
I gently sit close to the table.
What a mistake! This not a fable.
Three sips from my Kube jar,
with a deep breath,
how are you? No don’t answer that,
for you are naturally fine. My priceless coconut, worth every single dime.
My affection for you is true, I tell no lie. Your beauty has left my heart fractured.
I am no longer whole. I am now an improper fraction.
For I am head over heels in love with you.
My head is not that big though,
be my “banku” and i will give you dough.
You may think I hustle, but baby I live in a castle.
I say baby because you need tender love and care.
You always ask why I love Samsung,
and have no apple product.
Samsung reminds me of the one person, who means the Galaxy to me.
With apple products,
look deep into my eyes,
you see an I-rene.
That is the apple of my eye.
Irene, be my beauty and I will be your beast to scare thirsty boys.
Perhaps my sleeping beauty,
for I will be the needle that puts you to sleep everyday.
All I want to say is, be my dearest Kubeila.
His Royal Sweetness,
I end the letter with smiles.
I wear my lucky shirt.
I put the letter in a pink envelope.
I double my steps,
almost slipped on a gentle slope.
Eventually, I knock on her door.
The door is opened by a young man.
My years of watching CSI,
tells me he is an enemy.
I ignore my instincts.
“Kindly call your sister for me”.
He gives a sheepish smile,
and calls, “Irene dear”.
I could feel the fumes within me,
but ignored, for family is excused.
She finally appeared, I hold my pink envelope with great pride.
I wanted to,
she rudely cuts in.
“I am sure you have met my boyfriend”.
“John, this is brother Kube”.
I thought I was the boyfriend.
I stand there,
stuck between anger and tears.
She then asks,
“what envelope is that”?
I shamelessly say,
It’s my light bill.
Kube is served