When Feb-the-fourteenth calls,
Behead the roses for the cause.

And when the crimson colour blooms,
Crush the cocoa and milk-infuse.

The day the diners rub elbows,
Mine the gold for knee-bent shows.

When the need for romance spikes,
Pay for words that Hallmark writes.

And let the men show they care,
One single day per-calendar-year.

It beguiles that this day exists,
Where expensive gifts outshine a kiss.

Do you mind if I just make a pact?
To love today, tomorrow, beyond and back.


RLG

Today was a cold day,
Sky filled with clouds,
The colour of grey,
Very little sun rays,
Everybody is indoors,
The streets are empty,
The sea is grumpy,
Upon the town,
Hangs a sense of melancholy,
The cold ****** the skin,
The grey empty roads feel eerie,
The scent of rain,
Is in the air,
Within my heart is a pain,
At peace is my brain,
Silence is what I gain,
Everything has a touch of,
Dark grey, blue paint,
Into the silence I roar,
And with pride I stand,
The clouds part and flies down light,
The golden of ichor,
The scent of petrichor fades,
And sunlight shines like the golden of a lion's mane.

Yay!! It is summer holiday,
But we don't know how to spend our day,
Maybe go for a swim,
Or try to become slim,
How bout reading a book?,
Or try and become a cook,
Or else go out for ice cream,
Or ride a roller coaster and a scream,
I think going to active will be fun,
Or maybe going to Antarctica will be cool,
Or just sit in front of the tv and get board,
Or go out to the park and ride a skateboard,
Maybe spending time with friends and playing board games,
Or reading the newspapers about hue Olympic games,
There are lots of things to so is holiday,
And we won't even know that,
We have enjoyed,
The whole summer holiday!

A Bright day,
As some would say,
There she stood,
Waiting in the hallway,
Her hair flowing,
Red with a hint of grey,
The elegance with,
Which her body sways,
And the beauty,
Of her flawless face,
Time has stopped it seems,
For me to admire,
The Aphrodite of my dreams.

I am frustrated,
Because every little thing,
Bothers me in some way,
I get frustrated,
When I cannot find a book,
By an author who is my favourite,
It troubles me,
When I cannot get words to rhyme,
And when things do not,
Work at the perfect time,
I worry a lot,
From making music,
To being communicative,
My hands pain,
From punching the walls,
My arms burns from,
Scratching with my claws,
The happiest day,
The day I am set free,
Is when frustration,
Will be the death of me.