The Lover’s Poem
You were born at the opening of time,
When the week first learned to breathe—
Sunday, soft with promise,
They called you Akosua,
The one who arrives with grace,
The soul that carries gentleness and life.
I was born when the week leaned to rest,
At the edge of labour and longing—
Saturday, steady and reflective,
They named me Kwame,
The one shaped by purpose and responsibility,
A man taught to stand, to hold, to keep.
You are the sunrise;
I am the quiet dusk.
You begin what I complete,
You dream what I protect.
Between your morning and my evening
Love learned its rhythm.
Where my strength meets your tenderness,
Time itself feels whole.
Akosua, you remind me that every end
Can open into hope.
Kwame, I promise to be the ground
On which your beginnings feel safe.
So let the week turn again and again—
Saturday walking faithfully toward Sunday,
Sunday smiling back at Saturday.
For in you and me,
The beginning and the end
Have fallen in love.
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