You know it’s nearly February Fourteen,
When boys in your class suddenly look very clean.
And if you’re the lucky girl,
Around you they may do a nervous twirl.
But if you’re someone like me,
then you’ll also see,
That there really isn’t much to this date,
Except maybe the opening of a gate.
The chance to pour your heart out,
With the force of water flowing from a spout.
But here’s the question I have my dear friends,
What happens when this day comes to an end?
Does our lover suddenly become our fiend?
Oh but wait! I rhymed a third line with ‘end’
In the spirit of Valentine’s, I wont break any more couplets’
And get back to pondering beyond this day what lays.
Do the butterflies cease to exist,
Or become bitter as bad butter after that magical kiss?
The date you new lovers had which was clouded and cloaked,
By a layer of magic neither of you could have soaked,
Does it resume to an uneventful dinner-for-two,
With awkward conversations and really uncomfortable shoes?
For those of you that have found the ‘ones’,
Is a single particular day enough to express love in tons?
If I may talk a bit about myself,
I can say that I’ve felt love without needing a card from a Hallmark shelf.
On my first day of grade school,
A boy confessed his crush, leaving me feeling like a happy, silly, fool,
On May 18th, when my baby brother was born,
I loved him even though to be at each other’s throats we had sworn,
On June 2nd, when from my whirlwind of a high school I graduated,
From my parents’ eyes immense pride and love emanated,
Skip forward to August 1st, when I arrived to Singapore,
And first set foot on Sentosa beach’s shore,
I looked across at the marriage of light,
A country-city that has done so much with its sheer might,
I felt the love of progress,
That defies all race, religion and thinks ‘more is less’.
Then sometime in September when I found the sister I never had,
It’s safe to say that I was probably more than glad.
None of these moments or people happened on February Fourteen,
Why then does a single day exist for something that everyday can be seen?
I strive to celebrate love everyday,
Even though that sounds too much like a cliché,
Because from one of these people, places and moments I cannot pick.
again, I may just be a February Fourteen cynic.