Monday, 9 February 2015

To Valentine's

Too-red roses squashed on the pavement,
Like they've been painted by Alice's cards. 
Sticky chocs, and socks, and the scent of
What someone has called perfume on the breeze.

Shops are shades of pink and red,
The heart and the flower rule the court.
Stars and crosses cast aside
Whilst eggs are patiently waiting.

Those entangled with another,
Feel pressure and pleasure in parts.
Whilst those who stand alone
Shrug or ignore, burn or laugh.

Men and women both
Revert to forgotten stereotypes.
Restaurants pawning regulated romance, packed.
Though the world seems to ring with rejecting the day.

Silly, so silly, so silly they say.
Love is not one day.
So American with vivid white teeth is St Valentine,
A result of Cupid's arranged marriage with Simon Cowell.

We hug ourselves a little tighter,
Those of us alone.
It's like New Year, I hate New Year.
Yet though true, it doesn't numb us to it.

Leave the cards and three-for-one singles cocktails
At a damp west-end bar
And whether a half of two or one whole one. 
Accept it as a day to remind us of all love.
For yourself, for others, for life. 
Just don't start with a paper cut-out heart. 

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