Dear Chris, the girl of my dreams, I hope this letter finds you well. I

must confess that I have been stalking you on Instagram and

Facebook. You still look just as beautiful as the high school girl I

knew four years ago or even better now. Probably you have heard an

infinite number of men describe you as beauteous but what I want

you to know is that they were right in their observation.

My childhood crush, I have always fantasized about you as my cupid

superhero. The one, who would be there to catch me as I fall in love

and be there for me as the depth of my fall increases. To rescue and

shield me from the wiles and darts sent against my heart.

I recall when I first met you in a dream and this dream, I was on my

way to Sonop which is in the southern arid parts of Zimbabwe. I fell

for you the very first time I saw you through the fear of waking up

before I could declare my affection to such a beauty took hold over

me. Nevertheless, I fought so hard to stay in the reality of the dream and not allow this fear to overshadow my hope for love and the

fulfillment of dreams, long dreamt.

Meeting you remains one of the best things that has ever happened to

me. How I wish I could have stayed in this dream to a time past

eternity. Vividly, I recall your buxom figure in transit through my

eyes but now I can only imagine how beautiful your countenance

was. Words alone in my poems can never transcribe the beauty

embedded in your being. Juxtaposing this dream and the wake of it

brings the injustice that the dream presented to me. Guilty would it

be charged with misrepresentation of information?

In this dream, I was a secret agent on a mission to rescue kids that

had been assumed to be kidnapped in Sonop. It being my first time to

be on that side of the country, I had to ask my way around to know

where to start with my conquest. Homesteads were generally spaced

that I could walk for about 2 kilometers before I get to the next house.

Fear of getting lost in the gloomy forests grew over me, yes, my fears

of getting lost were so real that I felt fortunate when I found myself

lost in love.

I found a long narrow path that was passing through a gorge to the

fountain. This was a place where women sat enjoying the crispy air

of winter whistling like an invisible ghost and the sunlight would

make this time of the year so enjoyable in these arid places. As I

moved closer to the well, I witnessed heroine mothers and sisters,

hardworking and determined as they walked up and down the road of

life which looked unbearable to me. A woman would walk for more

than a mile to fetch water with a baby clutched on her back. Before

all that, the fields will be waiting to be freed from its weed, chores at

home with her name scribed all over, not to mention the hungry

children waiting to be fed.

Maybe I should have done something since I called myself a gamechanger but on this day I wasn't worried about a thing but my

mission. I wanted nothing but to investigate and go. Quick and

dashing was I but in the blink of the eye, I found myself gazing on

this amazing lady sitting on a bucket facing the northern side of the

fountain, it was you. "Wasn't I in a hurry to my mission rescue now

that I am here staring at her gorgeousness?" I asked myself.

Reluctantly, love at first glance had struck me.

You weren't that vibrant, but your gentle voice relaxed my spirit, and

to think of it, that's probably why any girl around you had to listen to

your stories. I could see their attention at a distance, with all eyes

staring at you, with all ears set to listen. There I was now, having to

take cover into the bush for me to encode your beauteous face once

more and those velvety eyelashes. Your round eyes, as radiant and

beautiful as a night sky full of stars.

"This is not happening," I told myself as I was moving around the

bushes looking for an angle to see your face, which happened for a

long time before I got tired. I then sat on a rock nearby a tree, took

out my pen and a paper from my backpack. With my pen and paper,

I began to write a poem with your encoded being so vivid in my mind

and now I couldn't think of anything but you.

It was an acrostic poem. I didn't know your name but as I was

listening to you and your colleagues talking, I captured Christine and

I knew exactly that it was you. The poem was written on top, "That's

all I can say" and until that time, I didn't know that I was a poet. It

was beautiful as I read it again and again, it turned out to be one of

the best poems I have ever written in my lifetime. It was the first

poem I wrote but still, I can't just compare to any of the poems, the

art, it was just out of this world. Your name made the lines that my creativity alone was never going to make. With you, my pen bled,

smeared my paper with words untold.

One moment is me, being pushed to come out of hiding and speak to

you to soothe my heart, fear of the unknown gripped me and held me

back. When you stood and lifted the bucket, placed it on your head, I

stood there with heart ablaze as I watched you walk away. You are

exactly what God meant when He created everything and said, "It is

good." Your back looked curvaceous and the flamboyant dress that

you were donning helped in punctuating your voluptuous figure.

Your beautiful curves wiggled seductively. I wished I could just

come out of the bush and scream, "Girl you are amazing."

You left me with nothing but a burning sensation all over my being

and your name which I got from the eavesdropping, all over my head.

Of course, I couldn't leave without proper confirmation of who you

were, so I gathered my courage to approach the remnant of the girls,

pretty much less work since you had left with your intense presence

that would bring my heart to a halt.

"The lady that has just left in a cream dress and purple blazer, do you

happen to know her?" I conversed with one of the girls.

"You mean Christine?"

"Honestly I don't know her name." I giggled as I said this because I

wasn't much of a good liar.

My heart skipped for a moment upon receiving this confirmation. Not

only was her beauty splendid to the eyes, even her name bonded with

my heart. "Of course her name was Christine," I said to myself.