Love Poem: The First Approach
Clement Chipande Avatar
Written by: Clement Chipande

The First Approach

Away...

Spot her  from far.
Have a tingle mingle all over your skin.
Award your forehead a scratch
As you do the arduous estimations
Of the remaining catwalk steps
Before her beauty kisses your eyes.
Let sanity flee from your mind.
(That's OK.Never mind.
Angels are never meant
For sane minds)

Coming your way...

Prepare to talk to her
Practise how to greet her
Whisper to yourself a greeting
Whose sweetness tricks 
Your zygomaticus muscle 
Into a seductive smile.
Then bite your lower lip alluringly
As the best Romeo and Juliet scene
Overwhelms the whole of you.
Enjoy the roller-coaster feeling
Of a heart that forgets its own rhythm.

A few minutes away...

To get on top of your muddled up feelings
And wake up the confidence demon
Wave your head in a 'NO' manner.
Grab a gorgeous gazale gaze of her.
Don't allow the jealous of a blink
To spoil this monumental moment.
Sink your nervousness deep
Inside the well of sighs.
Cast a blind eye on the people's eyes
Or acknowledge them as your cheerleaders.

It's about time...

Breathe in. 
Breathe out.
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
Elevate your hands like a clergyman in prayer
Just to inspect the odour of your exhaled air
That will transport your practiced greeting.
Regulate your lungs to spray your Rose
With nothing but the fragrance of roses.

It's time now...

Exactly when she gets near
Cockily say, 'Good morning, Madam.'
Immediately after the words  slip 
Away from the tip of your lip,
Remember that, 'Afternoon'
Is almost embarking on her sleep
And that the Madam title is ...
Cover your mouth instantly
As if trying to capture back the awakward greeting
Fancy the way she disguises
Her guffaws as a smile-
Revealing her pretty dimples
Concealed in the soft flesh of her cheeks

Almost...

Observe her as she catwalks it away
Leaving you dumbstricken all the way
Listen until her footsteps die away
Start scratching your backhead right away 
Wondering which spell she used
To transmute your 'Hey Pretty Lady'
Into a 'Good morning, Madam'  
During such perceivable old noon hours!
Blame yourself the whole day.
Tighten your fist like Muhammad Ali
Preparing to release his Sunday punch.
Then with a suppressed sigh sadly say:
TOMORROW will be a better day!

Tomorrow...