I remember well those eyes that sparkled every year on Valentines day
mom would adorn the dining area with red tablecloths and fresh flowers
A beloved Cupid kept vigil by the kitchen window as she shooed us away
from the melt in your mouth cupcake ganache, too soon to be devoured
Music streamed from an old radio, Barbra crooning to "The way Were"
dishes set side by side, while her Fleur De Rocaille wafted in like a blur
dad clean shirted and thankful bowed his head in prayer to St. Valentine,
Patron Saint Of Love, after all it was his day and so we drank a little wine
Years later when she died each Valentine's day dad brought home cupcakes
we would sit around the table and recall the years she would bake like a gem
it was a tradition we didn't have the heart to destroy, so we did partake
every year, as if she were still here. When the rose died, I saved the stem
I remember her smile and the way she celebrated every moment of the day,
Cupid gets put away every year but he always returns, it was mom's way.
Feb 19m 2021