Dear oxygen,
  The words to describe how I feel for you cannot be coined, no matter the depth, height or even length of rhetorics, no Mc hammer, no hon. Patrick obahiagbon can aptly describe this love I have for you. As you enter my lungs and travel through my blood stream in the luxurious vehicle of my hemoglobin, I can’t help but feel privileged .
   Our love has blossomed over the years, even when kidney inflamation wanted to cut short our romance… you still chose to stay with me, fever tried to no avail, and when the serial home breaker , Mr HIV and AIDS showed up, I did my bit and you remained with me, when Ebola came to town, you still refused to leave me. Oh my dear oxygen, ours has been a blossoming relationship. Even when or if I will have to get married the priest will have to state your presence as a condition, he will say ” till Miss oxygen departs do you part”
   Dear Miss oxygen, I want to sing love songs for you but my bad voice could scare you away, once I bought you that ‘Victoria secret’ lingerie but as soon as I wore it on you, it just fell yakata on the ground, then I remembered you were gaseous … chai… but I love you … I’m sorry for those times when life’s problems made me hate you, that once when I failed in university, that period where publishers felt I was a good ping pong ball… but I’m over that now. I’m a more mature oxygen lover, worthy of your daily supplies .
    I promise to use judiciously this your gift of love. As long as you crisscross my veins I’ll show forth your love to all humanity , I’ll do my best to make others smile, to make others appreciate you more like I have come to… to make your presence in our lives worth the inhale. I love breathing, I love living. I love you dear Miss oxygen.
                                     Yours sincerely,



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