To my future wife…
I guess it’ll be befitting to start with an introduction.
Congratulations, We’re married.
Isn’t that befitting my love?
Anyway, let’s downsize this to a bite size concoction,
Unlike the chunk you choked me with on our nuptial celebration.
The name’s Kelvin,
Man so hot they had to rename the Celsius.
Six feet high,
With a chocolate complexion.
But the first’s a lie.
I have no favourite colour,
But I like whatever’s on you right now.
No favourite meal,
But I hope you like chicken.
No favourite number,
But I’d love to get yours.
They say love is patient
But the truth is,
I’m already making plans.
I see you and me,
Even though love is blind.
And I see our little John or Mary or Susan or Mike or maybe all
But I’m told I only have certain control over naming,
Just like birthing.
I see what we would call our home,
A full sized mansion but with the warmth of a cottage.
I see us going a little crazy
And pulling out moves like we’re dancing on hooves.
No chimes, No sax’s, No flutes,
Just Kuzco’s kind of groove.
I see us trying out our best Mariah Carey impression
And hitting notes so wrong they’d blow the neighbour’s roof,
Certainly not the best remake of Sauti Sol
But we’d be our own Timon and Pumbaa,
“Hakuna Matata hata bila Rhumba.”
And I know you see all this is as corny
But I promise it’s salted.
I see us finally settled in each other’s embrace,
With the warmth of our hearth but with the fire in our hearts.
I see us jamming to Luther Vandross,
In a well calibrated slow dance,
To the glimmer of the setting sun.
“Oh my love
A million days in your arms
Is never too much”
I see you reading this right now,
So keep smiling honey.