When I first saw the gift in front of me,
I was excited by its curling bow,
Its bright blue paper beaming beautif'lly.
And after some time, I unwrapped it. "O!"
I said, "Why it's a book of poetry."
Its cover intrigued. I read a po-
em about a pirate of some fancy,
Who had no treasures of gold to bestow
Upon his fair maiden. His destiny;
The poet's rambling, didn't impress me, so
I set the book aside. A sad trophy
Collecting dust. A minor memento.
And then something happen'd, almost divine,
One day that book said, "Be My Valentine!"
Copyright © Paul Wrightson