Pressed for a poem
he thought he’d write
to say he loved her
and quite right too
he thought that
love should be
a statement thick
with words so tender
true yet gentle
as that soft complaining
flute he heard
in Dryden’s slick
immortal ode that
‘in dying notes
discovers woes
of hopeless lovers
whose dirge is whispered
by their warbling lute’
Oh yes come you and I
let’s like music
untune the sky!

But my dearest this day is not
the feast of Sancta Cecelia
but of a Roman priest and martyr
beheaded by the Flaminian Gate
for marrying Christians in the street.
And when imprisoned by Claudius’ decree
healed the sight of his jailer’s daughter
Lucy – by leaving her at his death a letter
‘I hope your sight gets better in time’
and signed it  ‘from your Valentine ‘
(with two kisses one for each eye)
.   .  . and it did

Such love can
make us see anew
can help us be
forever true and
gracious to each other’s
cares each other’s woes
and live in hope
(let’s really try)
to be together
always
you and I