I distrust Valentines Day. How can one condense their love, In such a way? - Rather that you think of me. Be there for my ups and downs, On any day. - You noticed I was sad. So bought a bunch of iris', & chased my blues away. - Or cooked me a meal. So we could put the world to rights, On some idle day. - If you only show your love, When society says you must. Elsewhere please play! - Love's there from the minute, to the decade. Love is perpetual. It's not one day.
Duplicitous lies. Romance, Desire's mirage! Have no truck with it.
Yet the poem above is truer to the way I feel about love and Valentines in particular. For me if it’s not there in the tough times as well as the good, its not love. Love is not romance, love is companionship, a connection that supports and weathers any storm. Shakespeare said it best in Sonnet 116…
Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove.
O no! it is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wand’ring bark,
Whose worth’s unknown, although his height be taken.
Love’s not Time’s fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle’s compass come;
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me prov’d,
I never writ, nor no man ever lov’d.