Yes, Valentine's Day. I haven't written much about the love day . . . but I have written at least one sonnet I wrote some years ago. Oh! here it is!
Upon a page of white. For you, my dove,
My feelings I do bear, respectfully.
A clever poet, yes, could move you more;
With words of heavenly inspired rhyme,
Would bleach your holy cheeks in tears galore
With love for he who wrote those words sublime.
But here, alas, no poem sweet I site,
No words can voice the tenderness my heart
Does hold for you my secret friend, my light.
No sounds I make will spark your smile to start.
But try I must within my clumsy way
Confess my awkward love for you this day.
Woodie 2-13-11(rewrite 02-13-13)
My
Hopeless Valentine
To thee I
write these mournful thoughts of love,
These
words that bend and break ungracefullyUpon a page of white. For you, my dove,
My feelings I do bear, respectfully.
A clever poet, yes, could move you more;
With words of heavenly inspired rhyme,
Would bleach your holy cheeks in tears galore
With love for he who wrote those words sublime.
But here, alas, no poem sweet I site,
No words can voice the tenderness my heart
Does hold for you my secret friend, my light.
No sounds I make will spark your smile to start.
But try I must within my clumsy way
Confess my awkward love for you this day.
Woodie 2-13-11(rewrite 02-13-13)
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