As i think about this day,
And the meaning behind it,
About how the first valentine ,
Was written from,
Sir valentine himself,
To show affection,
For the woman he loved.
I think about the two star-crossed lovers,
Who although they were destined to,
Share an undesirable fate,
Which ended with each of them,
Taking their own lives,
They did not care,
For they would do whaterver,
They needed to be together.
I remember that there was a war,
Which was fought,
Which now has been transformed,
From story to legend,
This very war was fought for the,
Love of a woman whose beauty,
Had no match or no end.
And after this war,
Was over and the,
Last drop of blood had been shed,
The warrior who led his side to,
Victory had only one thing on his mind,
And he risked everything to acheieve it,
For his one desire,
Was tio hold his wife,
In his arm again.
There are many sings which,
Happen when people are in love,
And even if they,
Are as the moor Othello,
Who although his love for his wife,
Desdamona was pure,
His mind was corrupted by,
The trechouse Iago,
And now they lie side by side,
In a ship which was lost,
To the eras of time.
My mind then comes to a love,
Which happened when an angel,
Drifted down from heaven,
And stood in front of me.
Her brown eyes,
Concealed a gaze,
Which penetrated,
The darkest nights,
And put the stars, moon, and sun to shame.
Whose heart was not,
Just pure by earthly standerds,
But by those of heaven itself.
And even though we are apart,
I will always love you,
My Juliete Capulat,
My Helen of Troy,
My Penelope of Ithicha,
My Desdemona,
My love and passion,
And forever my hearts desire.
