A Wish for a Valentine
Today is a day;
A day of joy and hope;
A day of dreams and cuddles;
A day of a harmonious melody -
Sung in a chorus by a blissful duo.
Today is the day;
The day with great beginnings;
The day with revealed truths;
The day with a string of simple words -
Whispered between the blissful duo.
Today is a day;
A day in February;
A day in time;
A day in visible existence -
"In love, with sincerity;
Etched in memories, in wonder -
A Fairytale that's mystical yet admired."
Today is your day;
Your day that's with a Valentine;
Your day that's filled with brilliance and optimism;
Your day that's free of worrisome anxieties -
Your time and space, to find someone who'd cherish,
And nurse you towards a future of perpetual beatitude -
A day that's the both of you;
Hand in hand, striding with coherence,
With someone you truly love.
~Happy Valentine's Day~
***
I've written this... poem... does it sound simple to any of you? Why not try reading between the lines? Or is poetry plainly for leisure and appreciation?
Art (music and other stuff that can be classified under this category) and literature... they are what many would fail to appreciate; they are what many of the few who'd take time off to appreciate - fail to comprehend the author's emotions. Or perhaps I've written it in a extremely complex manner...
14th February... should just be.. another day to me. It should just be... some other day where I'd plainly get past easily with my hectic schedule.
I was wrong, hence I wrote... I wrote a poem. It was inspired by a song... yet I wrote... I wrote... not knowing whom I was writing it for. I wanted it to be written... for you, and yet.. I couldn't seem to write... to you any further...
***
I stepped out of those grand oak doors today... everyone seemed to be in a mad rush with their stuff... I was so... ignored. Hence I wrote.. I wrote a poem.
***
I returned to my world without hearing any resemblance of that familiar voice calling out to me... I wrote... I wrote a poem... I wept... I wept upon a poem.
***
I left my doors unlocked, hoping that someone would come knocking; yet silence seemed so loud... it seemed to ring me apart... I wrote... I wrote a poem... I wept... I wept... a sheet of parchment stained with tears.
My emotions appear as soggy as the wet parchment... then again.. parchment should've been 'parched'... The ink smudged submissively... My words were lost in a battle of bitter teardrops that landed silently on the parchment.
Parched... my eyes were parched... I never moaned... I never groaned... never whined... never whimpered... I stared at the door... Nothing stirred at all.