Last minute Valentine

Roses are dead, and the violets are too,

half price at the garage I bought just for you

There’s no need to thank me, stop crying, it’s fine,

There’s more gifts in the bag, No, I didn’t get wine

But Lucozade’s nearly as good as champagne

Don’t you agree? What’s that look of disdain?

There’s perfume as well, Look it hangs of that string,

Is it my fault the smell of fresh pine’s not your thing?

Don’t forget all the chocolate, it’s opened you say?

I was hungry you see, haven’t eaten all day

Now don’t be ungrateful, all that counts is the thought

Perhaps there’s some manners you haven’t been taught

I’ve a feeling this evening is going to be fraught

I guess the truth is

Love just cannot be bought

Published by G Turner

Gavin Turner is a poet and writer of short fiction. He lives in North West England. Some of his work is published here on this site and more recently in other journals and publications.

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