A Fruitful Weekend Poem by Victor Okey Nwatu

It sometimes was gloomy and dark,
It had rains and storms and thunders,
It also had sunlight in-between the lightening spark,
In sequence, sunlight rays and rainfall showers.
The weekend was sun-kissed, was beautiful.
And in terms of output, had fruits, was fruitful.

We hit the sack with the speed of light,
And immediately went out like a light.
Saying goodnight, there was no need.
We transited sleep realms at an indescribable speed.
Maybe we'll blame it on the mood and the ambience.
The low-scale temperature, with Celsius as a reference.

Woke up, rolled out of the sack, smelt the coffee;
But damsel preferred a smoothie, figurative coffee.
Chores done; body scrubbed so nicely;
More layers of fragrance, body dressed up so sparkly;
For the scrub & nice, we were on the same boat;
For the sparkly part, I was submerged & she afloat.

My car was mad, because I drove her crazy;
Literally, I drove like I was mad, like I was crazy,
Blamed in on the phone calls, they came in droves;
Frequency of it turned the phone hot like a thousand stoves.
But I did my job, drove her to the veggies market,
Held my key, kept my cool and never ever dropped it.


Why did keep it together this time?
Knowing how I hate the market and its noise chime?
Am I getting older, am I losing my inhibitions?
Or am I simply crafty, stocking up emotional munitions?
Or am I feeling her love, feeling the magnet?
Or is my seed growing in her pulling like a ferromagnet.

Can't put my finger on, wasn't worried;
Whatever it was, I stayed with her, I tarried.
I endured and enjoyed my stay at the market.
It was the first in a very long time, do mark it.
Like my friend of the soup-stirring fame,
There were enjoyable oranges after the game.

Yes, succulent oranges aside, the weekend was fruitful.
I had some quality time with her, and it was beautiful.
I felt the kick of the young one, it was wondrous
I felt that wave of love again, it was glorious.
How am I sure? Because I felt it
I plucked that love rose, and I perceived it.

Do I want more these occasions?
Do I need more of these love-locations?
Do I need to revive all these hidden feelings?
The types that turn knees into weaklings?
I do; I sincerely and whole-heartedly, do.
Hoping that I don't only wish, but surely do
Things that engender all days to be wonderful,
Not just a single weekend that was fruitful.