Tuesday, March 15, 2011

Poem: My Valentine (16 Years Later)

Don’t think that when I buy you things
I’m trying to buy your love.
Our love is nothing that could be bought
It’s a gift from up above.

Not wrapped up in pretty paper,
Or tied up with bows or string,
But caringly built by the three of us,
Slowly piece by piece.

And as our love grows stronger
I don’t want the spark to die.
So I’ll continue to woo you,
As if it were the very first night.

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