Dear Future Wife,
There will be cold nights. Nights my tongue would be as icy as the snowflakes. When the fluttering of my vocal chords won’t resonate beautiful lyrics with which to serenade you.
There will be hot afternoons too. With the solar system dispensing at its peak. And my midas touch on your naked skin would rather than pacify you, be likened to adding dry wood to a dying fire.
There will also be nude weekends. Fridays and Saturdays devoid of the initial tingling sensation we inaugurated our relationship on. Days we’ll wish we were single and still able to mingle.
Yes. Obstacles in the nature of mountains and valleys will look insurmountable oftentimes. In spite of all these facts, we can still weather the storm if we remain resolute to harness the depth of uniqueness we harbour within.
We can cultivate farmlands and make fine orchards out of them. Building bridges over valleys, constructing drainages that drain awful moments, and mounting irrigations that tend the greens of the field.
‘Cause our hearts are beautifully crafted works of art designed to love, feel and care; as well as fight and defend her territory when staring threats in the face. True soldiers of love; bearing the mark of valour.
Author: Femi Ojutiku a.k.a Phemstrong
Profile: He is a research student of Tourism Development and a passionate writer.