Mushroom Vows
I lie there and smile,
Swiping onto a tedious rendition
Of the classic tongue-twister
About a Woodchuck.
I give it a valiant attempt,
Fumbling over the scrolling words
As his crackled laughter
Echoes over the speaker.
I send it to him, teasing
"I'd like to see you try".
And giggle as he begins the theatrics:
"How much wood would a woodchuck chuck..."
He recites as I scroll,
My laughter abruptly gone,
Robbed from my throat,
Replaced by a sickening dread,
And watch helpless through my little screen.
The world teetering on the edge of destruction:
Country after country raising their hackles,
Hissing, snapping, swiping at one another,
As fat fingers rest over a button
Who's push triggers Armageddon.
My tears begin to fall as I see
The steep descent, the sharp impact.
A split-second, no second chances,
If we are lucky.
All the while I hear the focus
In his phone warped voice:
"Chopping chunk after chunk of chopped wood"
I can see him sitting at the edge of the bed,
With the soft blanket I gifted
Bound tight around his shoulders.
Brow furrowed, screen close,
Eyes dancing across the lines,
Ensuring each word is precisely dictated.
Finishing with a flourish,
I hear his smile full of fiery pride
That he succeeded in his verbal quest,
And it becomes clear to me.
One fateful day,
When the alarms blare,
And glass shatters,
Sprinkling onto us as cruel snowflakes,
I want him to be with me,
And place a ring on my finger,
While I recite my vows.
And as the bombs fall around us,
Leaving trails like shooting stars,
I'll wish for it to be quick and kiss him,
Under a blossoming mushroom cloud.