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A LETTER FROM 2020 #Stories4Health

Dear 2050,

How are the daily struggles of life?

-breathing, smiling, living-

Do not grin till your charred lips

Crack from this repetitive exercise

You like calling survival.

Do not force it

Because right in our cemetery

Is a mould of humour that rots

-sorry- rolls relentlessly.

We even have potential jokes like the cabinet

And a now-powerless-COVID-bully.

It’s not all about pandemics and worms

Like they all claim.

By the way,

You are cordially invited to our land

Where we finally absconded

 with the “no social distance” rule.

Here, we are family;

Constantly rubbing shoulders like Siamese twins,

We are inseparable like that!

So why stick to your grief-stricken generation?

A sad era with happy selfies?

We used to be genuinely sad.

We can’t tolerate your sarcasm

from our lockdown graves.


There’s no hate we give,

But rather love that’s threatening

To burst out of us like water through a dam.

2050, you and I could make super cute and adorable babies,

But you are in self-denial,

And definitely 30 years older than me.

Since your absence makes our hearts grow fonder,

We shall wait for you

Like Christians wait for judgement day!

Consumed with longing and frustration,

Watching these blossomed lilies

All wither around us

And when we finally meet

In a mortuary, your sleep or a car wreck,

It will be more of an explosion

Than a mere kiss of death;

A bomb erupting between the moment

Our lips make contact,

Fusing us together

Like two atoms in a nuclear reactor.

We shall clasp each other

Like two shipwreck survivors

Miraculously washed up the shore.


This sort of perfection

Deserves to be immortalised.

Who says no to dark paradise?

Your patient lover, 2020.


What do you think?

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