Valentine
the deepest secret between us
was the gift
the rosary
you bought for me
that dreary manhattan february morning
in St. Patricks cathedral,
you came running to the coffee shop
where i waited,
cramming for a math final
and handed me the red heart shaped satin box
when I opened it and saw Jesus and the beads,
they could have been arrows
hitting my heart like cupid was aiming bulls eye,
to be carried forever
my first valentine.
Copyright © Kathryn Sweeney | Year Posted 2018
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