Valentine's

Valentine’s

I have heard it said,
by those of jaded outlook,
that St. Valentine was no real saint,
nor a flying diapered cherub
with bow and arrow,
but a Hallmark Employee, born in 1917
in Kingston, Arkansas, Falmouth, Maine,
or perhaps Peoria, Illinois,
who wanted to leave his mark
upon the greeting card industry,
by creating and selling
verses and love and chocolate
and cards to those who
think money and gifts buy affection.

I tend to think,
as most star struck lovers do,
that Saint Valentine was the owner
of the magnetic attraction
that drew me through years
of darkness and sadness to you.

I may not remember the card,
chocolate, or roses this year,
but I will always remember
the way you make me feel,
with just one hug,
kiss, or smile.
To some it may be corny,
but you call it sweet,
when I say you make me complete.