Creative Writing

Valentines’ Day

Warmed by a nightlong rest,

we whisper the common riddle. The eager zest

of love quietened by morning, sleep, speech

and indulgence shared hours before. Now, heavy-lidded, reach

for an arm or fingertip. A sound, and we rise to leave

that sanctuary. The bed cools, the two halves cleave.

Now, armored with boots, scarf, a hat for my head,

I wonder at life which wrenched me from that bed

(and you). Is it not cruel that we are called

from the warm pressing of our bodies and hauled

to trains, trams, buses by necessity? –

Forced to numb our feelings in freezing February.

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