Love isn't a gala
Or a much-waited weekend
To celebrate it with fanfare.

It's the merry movements
Of the zippy fish
And the flair-stitched footfalls
Of the sun and the moon
Who set out in all seasons.

Last night, she dispatched
A message on the screen :

Tomorrow we're going to Walia;
It's our first Valentine Day;
I love you.

Quickly, I retorted:

I'm different, so is my love
We'd, as asual, walk in the park
And sing our songs.