Also not Chaucer, the poet.
Every year for the last thirteen or so, I’ve written a sonnet for Valentine’s Day that I’ve emailed to friends, relations and acquaintances. Here’s this year’s contribution, a little late to the blog, but better that than never:
We’re married now, and Valentine’s a breeze
For giving, his gift long ago procured.
Receiving is much harder, though, and ease
With what he might get me is unassured.
Flowers are nice, but with each fresh bouquet
Come sneezes — pollen allergies, I fear.
There are no benefits in lingerie
When flabby thighs accuse me from the mirror.
Which brings us to the best and worst surprise,
The giant heart-shaped box of chocolate:
Its creamy and seductive freight belies
The fat the aforementioned thighs will get.
But it’s the thought that counts. His thoughts are clear,
And thoughts — not gifts — are what my heart holds dear.
Update: You can check out the last twelve poems on my Valentine Sonnets page.