You know, I stop sometimes at an unknown town
and every market place and every street,
the parking lots, the concrete ramps sloping down,
the face of every stranger I chance to meet,
the sudden lunge of a voice by a window,
the rising noise of an approaching bus,
its windshield gleaming, mirror worked leaf shadows –
they are all you, all of it's about us.
The lampposts blink in the dark – power’s out,
the stars too blink and gulp in unison,
a blind busker tap-taps to the roundabout.
And even though I’m far from the river mouth,
I’m still with you, and still with our horizons,
however far east or west, north or south.
As in most other years, I'm doing my own version of love poems to mark the month, though I'm not a big believer in V-day. But I'm perfectly fine with anyone celebrating V-day, love and let love is the general policy around here. And who wants to argue about getting more chocolate, right? It's all good, whichever way it's celebrated. Love can run deep in an aquifer, or it can be a gushing hot spring, or a steady-serene, glassy surfaced lake. If you want to splash out, splash out, and if you want to be free, be free.
To paraphrase another great - there are a thousand ways to kneel and kiss the beloved. Just keep the knees flexible.