Next Year, I’ll be home for Valentine’s

Every year, every February

I want to send you flowers,

have candlelit dinner with you;

But, every which way I turn

Too much work and little time

Lurks behind like a hyena, laughing (I lied, again).

Lovers from all walks

Sending, and receiving

Cloying bouquets

‘I love you’ cacophonies in the corridors, and offices

Wearing red

Clutching velvet gift boxes:

While I eat my lonely dinner

With memories of you, wishing I were there;

Cursing the distance and absences

I seem to embellish.

The nights and mornings and scents

Of post-Valentine’s Armageddon

They are like a bad flu

I awake pondering why

Love demands I love you this day.

Love!

I’ve made up my mind

There’ll be no more excuses, or reasons

To be away, I might even quit if I have to

This time, come next year

I’ll be home for Valentine’s.