Roses are red.
Violets are blue.
Words often used
but cliche is not you;
yet anything I'd say
wouldn't be new.
I wanted to see comparable beauty
so a pretty picture I drew.
Intoxicated by your beauty
my feeble attemp I rue
where my hand will fail
my unoriginal phrases lieu.
So here is the poem
whose words will ring true
well through the 14th
'Til forever plus a few:

Faith in women was lost,
but your eyes always renew
feelings that are harbored
and I want to eschew.

That is hardly a negative
but why, I haven't a clue
I'm an out of place Cinderella
and my foot fits the shoe

I'm eleven strokes to midnight-
this I'm sure you knew-
such an idea kept my mind busy
while waiting for the day I'm due.

So similar in mind,
logically grounded, but creativity flew.
The stars have us adjoining
by Aries' days one and two.

It was as if I put my hand to a mirror
but I don't remember who withdrew.  
I only see a backwards glance and smile--
stunned, I had not a thought nor word to spew.

It's embarrassing to admit
but your attention makes me mew
the noise is internally heard,
and externally I'm a rouge hue.

Your past came back to visit
from its repeat I hope you grew.
Penelope's Box has again been opened
so of your suitors, there must be a slew.

Time is one thing I do have
so take longer than you have to
the reward will be worth reaping
when, again, those tranquil thoughts ensue