it was valentines last Sunday
and then again on Monday
it happened several times
in the cold December snow
and many other times and dates
i don’t remember or regret
romance comes and goes
it’s never early, never late
it isn’t hidden in the roses
it wears no jewels or diamond rings
it doesn’t come in velvet boxes
or petals scattered on the bed
it’s a feeling and a flow
it’s an opening of hearts
and the moments that we know
that we’ve received a special gift
a passing moment, filled with love
valentines
Valentines
sixty years of Valentines
since they had their first sweet kiss
through years of war and separation
and all their married bliss
the floral card was always sent
inscribed with love all through his life
”with love to you my darling wife.”
now he’s dead she places flowers
on the piano by his photograph
i hear her say, in tender words
”here’s to you, my old love.”
The Dreaming Path 