I’ve seen dozens of beautiful marriages,
My detective eyes have beheld a thousand beauties,
And all these got me thinking one night;
How long I needed to pluck a rose.
I needed nothing more than determination, I’d thought,
Freely allowing my cerebrum to kindle a beautiful plan,
As my hippocampus, neocortex, and amygdala were quick to record,
The fantastic plot I’d come up with.
I left when no one was watching,
Hitting the road leading to the ‘home of love’,
Where two are bounded to become one,
With the sticky bond of emotions.
The night came beating cold,
And the day beating hot,
But my heart kept beating soft,
And my enthusiasm beating bold.
Until I arrived at the entrance of the other world,
I didn’t think of taking a break,
To wash my soiled feet,
Or take a dab sleep.
I looked through the gate,
Which had no one to man,
Looking huge and strong,
Bagging the shape of a heart.
I adjusted my drenched jacket,
Walked in like every other journeyer,
Surveying the gorgeous and fascinating attributes therein,
Before finding a narrow queue where everybody fell into.
I drifted my legs towards the queue,
Trying to make out the event,
All I saw was an angel,
Making every Two into one.
The exercise sent a boost to my oxytocin,
But I was quick to tame my impatience,
Waiting for my turn like the others,
To be cuffed to the twin of my heart.
It was eventually my turn,
To be crowned for my bravery,
With a maiden of real beaut,
By the aged angel of love.
But it all came as a shock,
When I was deprived of a union,
With the one I sought,
From many miles away.
I was told to be patient,
Because I was running a race,
Faster than my two legs could go,
Which might cost me a lifetime.
P.Lord Shelf 