DEAR BESTIE# HE HIT THE CENTRE

I married him, a broke bloke.   

We worked so hard, it hurt, just to reach high.

Then the sweat trickled, solidifying into coins.

The wish list got ticked, inch by inch, meted.

The dared dreams, met by money, implemented.

There were new shoes, new clothes, new recipes.

Then the new mansions, new cars, new projects.

 

We crossed the bridge, quite unceremoniously.

The dinners, the politics, the vloggers came venomously.

The road trips graduated into flights, so vigorously.

We schooled the kids too, in places quite scholarly.

Then the guests flocked in, testing my hospitality.

The nephews, the aunties, the uncles, quite ridiculously,

Hailing and praising their rich uncle, loved suddenly.

 

Then the centre hit, he told me, so much courage.

He lost interest in all things marriage.

Vanishing for weeks while I chased his mirage.

He wanted time alone, to reclaim and disparage

I fought to accept and his ego massage.

Little did I know, ‘the me time’ as he nudged

Was a honeymoon of sorts, with a woman for demurrage.

 

The woman in question, the vloggers tell us,

Is now with child, an heir to his wealth thus.

Since the babies I begot him, are merely girls

Who promise him nothing, more than cows.

So ladies beware, when the centre, comes

And he convinces you for ‘me times.’

Widen your eye darling, he lies!

 

 Sr. Esther Jeruto Koros OSF