Those Days When Love Was Fun & Didn't Cost So Much!!...
At school, July 10, 1978
My dearest, sweetest, fondest, fantastic,
extra-ordinary, paragon of beauty a.k.a Bose
I hope this letter meets you in a fabulous state
of metabolism, if so doxology.
My principal aim of writing this letter
to you is to gravitate
your mind towards a matter of global and universal
importance, which has been troubling my soul.
The matter is so important, even as I am writing,
my adrenaline is 100 per cent on the Richter
scale, my temperature is rising,
the windvane of my mind is pointing North,
South and East at the same time;
the mirror in my eyes has only your
divine image. Indeed when I sleep,
you are the one in my medulla oblongata,
and I dream about you.
I went out to sea in my dream, and I saw you:
surrounded by H20 and you in
your majesty rose from the abdomen of the sea like
Yemoja, the avatar of beauty.
Oh, Lord be with us! We are thy servants.
As you can see, I am in a serious dilemma.
And I want you to take my matter seriously.
At this junction, what our Lord
said on this matter is germane.
He says we should ask, and we shall be given, we
should seek and we will find,
and that we should knock, and it will be
opened unto us. I am this
10th day of the seventh month in the year of our
Lord, one thousand, nine hundred and seven eight,
asking, seeking and knocking at your door.
My prayer is that thou should open so that thy
servant can enter. I want to
wake up in the morning and see only your face.
I want you to be the only sugar in my tea, the
only fly in my ointment, the butter on my bread,
the grey matter of my system, the oxygen in my
head, the planet of my universe, the wall clock of
my room. The conveyor belt of my soul.
I pray that you realise the gargantuan nature of my
predicament. If you refuse, my life will be like
tea without sugar, like a s nail without shell,
a Xmas goat without a horn;
in fact I'd become an orphan.
In fact I'd kill myself. What is life if I
can't wake up in the morning and
behold your face? You model of
pulchritude, patiently created
by God on a Sunday morning before he went on a
deserved holiday.
Please Bose, let me be your Romeo.
Make me the Adam to your Eve.
Shakespeare said it all: if music be the food of love, play on.
I want to emphasise, universally and responsibly, that you are love
itself. You are the metaphor, oxymoron, thesis, antithesis, irony,
gerund, conjunction and the adverb of love.
At this juncture, let me also say that
geography of your body is a permanent allelluia.
Not from your body, ammonia, urea and iodine- you are
too beautiful for that, what I see in your body is
milk and honey. At this juncture, brevity is the soul of wit.
A stitch in time saves nine.
Procrastination is the thief of time. An
opportunity once lost can never be regained.
Make hay while the sun shines. All that glitters is not gold.
The journey of a thousand years begins with a step.
What God has put together let no man put asunder.
To be a man is not an easy task even if
God's time is the best. But time waits for no one.
A man without love is like a fish out of water.
I know you are a sagacious girl. If you like the
veracity of what I am saying, please fill the
attached form and let me have it pronto.
The mark at the bottom of this page is a kiss
from me to you.
I remain Your beloved, faithful, loyal, One and
only admirer.
Kelvin
(The author is now a successful medical doctor!)