an evening love song (for Aimalohi)

buy me a field of flowers.

buy me a field of many things

bearing your name—

this is beyond a love song of 

too many metaphors,

this is beyond survival;

this is us losening the

yarns of lonesomeness,

this is you telling me the 

colours making up a rainbow.

i do not know how this poem ferried your name, like the gliding feather of a butterfly. perhaps, because i see through your choppy eyes, where i unboxed you from a box of lacquer. 

you are the blue— where a lonely boy sits to see the colours of tomorrow in the face of tamed tides.

at eve, i find traces of you in the song of migratory birds, finding pace in the breeze of wavering leaves & God's breath.

sing me into pride & certainty.

'your smile is diamond, 

more unique than a pearl;' 

mild like tones escaping the throat of a mother, praying her baby to embrace the staled arms of the night. 

espying your visage is a little

crazy business; let's stay & stare,

like the negro couple in this silver

night, where stars exchange pleasantries

in the vista of galactic silence;

for an ambiance crafted out of

this craziness with you, will last

longer than the expected time of christ's return.  

this is how words fold

into each other, in between

sentences;

no ant will tell the lope

how to present itself at the 

feet of the kinsmen.

this is beyond survival.

this is us losening the

yarns of lonesomeness,

this is you telling me the 

colours making up a rainbow.

the end is of

two ways: 

it's either you & i

or you & i