Of that valentine
I ought to write,
Holds all the lines
I thought be right,
And of many times
Thru days or night,
Be of a love to find
Ye sought it might,
In every way of love
Holds yours and mine,
The many years above
To validate my valentine,
Would find its way to stay
The while fate chose in time,
And ever so beyond life's play
Thus, to validate my valentine,
Hence find be forever and a day!
The fairy tale picture
Of its little red house,
Sitting on the corner
Sure lure for a mouse,
Or little Jack Horner
Ye find eating his pie,
Holds be a reminder
The while we walk by,
Tho soon we be older
Can but wonder why,
Be the little red house
That sits on a corner,
Seems ever so ageless
Lends we reminisce,
Shoulder to shoulder
Share memory’s bliss,
Each day walking by
As we pass the corner,
Of that little red house!
Age has you feel
The consequence,
Of thinned conceal
By a starved brush,
Upon your person
Wants but to instil
A sense of rush,
The while reward
Be to lay shades,
In wisdom’s colours
On its aging canvas
Begs innate candour... Thus so you knowLife lends redress,To shadowed greysOf life’s excesses, Will shape in partWhat age expresses...Hence of bold linesCarved so by time, Some even apropos Meant not unkind, To one’s tableaux That age defines, While time directsYou suffer decline, Yet holds respect For the art of aging, Alas be man’s eschatology!
Poetry on a canapé 