This Lady I Loved

Image Credit: google.com

Matters of love always confuse me

Why is it that when you love someone

So much so that the mention of their names

Causes you goosepimples

Yet they wouldn't care a jot?

And why is it that the one that loves you

Always calling, always being kind, always loving you

This one you ignore her calls and never care for a minute?

Why is this so?

This is my love story:

Once upon a time

On the slopy grassy fields of my heart

I had love...I loved this fair lady

So I sat down one night

With a dictionary, a writing pad

and love buzzing in my head

I wrote my first draft letter

Cancelled it, wrote another, cancelled it

Finally, I wrote her the final copy

With the best handwriting that my English teacher

Would have praised

Then I sprayed it with a little perfume

So that when she opens it

She would be hypnotized by my fragrance

Many weeks later, I got her reply

Nay, my own letter

With a red pen, she had corrected

my spelling errors, grammar, subject-verb, coherence, whatnot

Below it, she had written:

'6/20 Fair. Proof-read your work!'

As I sat in the dormitory

My cube-mates laughed irritatingly

Some leaning on the wall, others holding their sides

I wondered what was so funny!

But undaunted, I gathered my broken self

And carefully planned and executed my plan

So I joined the Scouts, the Y.C.S, the Drama Club

the Child-to-Child Club, the History Club, the Language Club

All to impress her

But she never noticed the passing shadow of my left ear!

Her friend actually confided in me

That she said that 'I am all over the place-

As if I wanted to be the Board of Governors Chairman'

So I changed my tact

And turned to my books

I read to impress her

To show her that the brightness gene

Was passed down our family line

And that I was the next best brain

The world was to worry about

Oh, how I Immersed myself in books

I made calculus sound like market chatter

I read ahead of the teacher and asked questions

Just to prove my worth to her

I carried around those big voluminous Physics books

And made sure she saw me

yet if she asked me why electricity wire lines slacken

I would collapse ( Well, she would have taken my brightness away)

All these I did- but she hardly noticed me!

Then a friend suggested poetry

I also tried it

I had to read Mills and Boons

Romance novels, David's Rubadiri

Songs of Songs, the Horn of My Love

To capture well the emotions of my heart

To tell her that if what I was going through

Was part of her 'Love Test'

Then my commendation was long overdue

In that poetry, I combined assonance, alliteration

imagery, repetition, onomatopoeia, love-manio-poeia

And so many other poeais-

All to good effect of

Telling her that I meant what I said

I went to the trouble of asking my English teacher

to 'look at it'

Before I send it 'for publication in the papers'

After this, I surreptitiously slipped the poem

Between her biology book covers

She read it later that night, came back next morning

Hollered at me: 'Salem, poetry is not my thing!

Plus, I-DON'T-LOVE-YOU!'

'But....'

'Shhhhssssh'

Then she slapped my poem on the desk and said,

'Here! Leave me alone'

I wanted to tell her it took me one week to write

that poem but I had been shhhed.

But I did not leave her alone

It was as if for every drama she unleashed

I loved her even more

All I wanted was for her to listen to me

To tell her that she was 'killing me softly'

All I wanted was to play badminton with her

Play so well, dazzle her with the shuttle cock and the racquet

All I wanted was to do anything for her:

Write for her her notes, answer for her questions in class if need be,

Assist her with maths problems even if I was a dummy, hear her fears

and hopes, motivate her, encourage her, do anything to marry her!

All I ever wanted was one micro-second of her attention, one twitching smile,

One laugh, just one coy, shy look

All these she eluded from me

I would sit in the study room

And hear her whisper:

'Salem, all along I always loved you...

I still do, always will'

My other part would say:

'C'mon, Salem, who are you kidding

Never worked, never will...no hating,

Just a brotherly truth...don't shame the

Brother-dom'

I would discredit this voice and feel pain

Stab at my heart

An image of the slapped poem on the desk

Would blind me

I would see her sashaying away, away from me

And there I would stand

Pleading with her, beseeching her, begging her

Calling upon her to give me an 1/8th of a chance

Just one conversation, just one fleeting moment

To shed her a tear

But she will be gone

And I will sit in the study room

Reading, re-reading, de-reading

One line or a paragraph

For the next two hours

And never understand a comma.

C) Lorot Salem 2011