In Honor of St. Valentine
Tuesday, February 14, 1995
Once again the day has come --
The day that brings me fear.
The hearts and chocolates everywhere
Say Feb Fourteenth is here.
I look around the Grounds,
And see the couples all in bliss.
And as I turn my head, they form
A gooey, writhing kiss.
Some people are so lucky.
Some people get the girl.
The rest of us don't fare as well,
And while they win, we hurl.
It is hard to have no voice --
No mouth with which to speak.
Part of me says, "Get the girl!"
The rest of me is weak.
My brain says, "No, you'll just get hurt!
Besides, it's your fourth year.
Don't start a little something now --
The denouement is near."
The source of all this fear, I think,
I'll hazard a small guess.
The fear is not that she'll say, "No,"
But that she'll say, "Oh, yes."
Now, I'm no patient on a table.
Etherizing's quite a reach.
I'm far above those coffee spoons.
I've always liked the peach.
Rejection I can handle,
For it's happened time enough.
But if acceptance should creep near --
Well, that might be too tough.
I'd likely sit there constantly,
Just watching her bright eyes.
Wondering, thinking, pondering:
Am I a worthy prize?
Rhyme is not the ideal place
For proper introspection.
Compared to meaty prose, this serves
As sugary confection.
But this may serve its purpose.
Most are reading this, I'll bet.
Although, Dream Girl, I've this to say:
I haven't met you yet.
Many centuries ago
Poor Valentine was killed.
That's how traditions happen --
That's why now we foot the bill.
(Ed. note: Closeted, party of one?)