Valentine

His name was Valentine

A Valentine tale
I here do tell
of when I found
my ne'er do well

Stealing attention
smiling, he spoke
Calmly explaining
he was flat broke

Tries to sell roses
before they get old
We buy personal ones
from a bucket he holds

A receipt of love
each feels unique
but not the roses
of which we speak

With stolen kisses
he sells each one
and by a stranger
this heart was won


© FailedChoices 2011