The Winning Card

In days of yore, a Valentine
Was, incognito, sent.
And this was then all good and fine,
But who knew what it meant?

When girl who would receive a stack,
With face like back of bus,
Sincerity, perhaps, they’d lack
If she was shown such fuss.

And fair of form and nature might,
When never sent a one,
Have given all her beaux a fright,
Or not be thought much fun.

Perhaps one boy amused himself
By sending off a score
To poor girl firmly on the shelf —
Or she, to self, sent more!

How great the Valentines though, where
A faithful card received
On every fourteenth Feb each year,
By true love was conceived.

And she finds, after they are wed,
That all by him were sent;
Thus all by true love had been sped
To lives together spent.

© February 2018 Colonialist

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