Of All the Ideas for Valentine's Day; A Poem

With the first blushes of Valentine's Day,
The idea sprang to my scheming mind,
The heart's vision in fancy's realms play.
Romance and boredom how they meet and grind,
Ideas born. (and they say Cupid is blind.)
Of all the sweet things to do, act, or say,
I can see such heart-shaped lightbulbs behind.
Any object under moon's lamp or sun's ray.
That gives solidarity to this day.


I should gather the flowers of the field,
Wild and savage, ravishing and rare,
Those that a hundred colors yield,
To the vibrant-impressioned sunny glare,
Where hangs the spirit of beauty in the air.
I'd pluck these and dub each a quality,
From her multi-petalled, many-hued air,
And label a thousand flowers quantity,
For her thousand-flecked personality.


I'd stand before the glowing Court of the Moon,
And caught up in the magic of the wild night,
Entreat the nighttime orbs in solemn swoon,
To play their sweet music of silver bright,
When all is sound hushed in twinkling light.
For her, only her, this sky symphony play.
The beaming strings strummed by a tranquil wind.
Soft melodies in solemn-couched clouds stray,
To her ear. Silver songs that weave and blend,
All this beauty, with her beauty within.


I'd embark for the rich land of Sleep,
And bring back a treasure chest full of dreams,
Sublime dreams that waft and hover and keep,
The intoxication of joy that beams,
In all its happy, blissful-raptured scenes,
They'd dangle from her hands, hair, neck, and ears,
A Dream adorned by dreams in wakeful bloom.
But all these gifts, there's one question that sears,
When looking about this stark, barren room,
I'd give these all, but I'd give these to whom?