I thought briefly of writing you verses and rhyme
But stopped before terribly wasting my time.
"I can't write that tripe" I scolded my head,
"Not unless you want your Valentine dead."
I thought perhaps I'd buy jewelry or flowers,
But shopping and shipping'd be too many hours,
And they're not that personal, not suited for you
So out of the question! Time to think something new.
Perhaps my yearly tradition would bring smiles
to a dearheart too distant by too many miles.
A gift was thus made with much love and much care
And now sits waiting in the Frigidaire.
Until we next meet, your gift here will wait
For your smile and overwhelming appetite to sate.
Donc a vendredi, cher, and listen when I say
Though I'm a tiny bit late, Happy Valentine's Day.