The most popular gifts for Valentine’s Day are flowers, chocolates and dining out. So if you want to take your sweetheart out for dinner, better make reservations well in advance otherwise you might have to settle for drive thru fast food.

- Bob Jacoby

Ageless Love

Snow rests on rooftop
Fire burns in the furnace
Nectar flows smoothly

Ageless Love

Nectar of the gods
Pulses throbs and flows once again
Winter is not here

Young Love

Butterflies flitting
Seeking all nectars nearby
Find empty vessels

- Marilyn McIlvena Sergi

Bryon,

Will you be my Valentine
Today and tomorrow
Just because?

Will you be my Valentine
And light my life
With your loving laugh
Melting my cares away?

Will you be my Valentine
My bestest friend
Who holds my hand
In sunlight and in shadow?

Will you be my Valentine
Heart to heart
Soul to soul
And walk with me today
Into tomorrow?

Will you, Bryon
Will you be my Valentine?

- Lisa A. Hatton

The Question of Love

Love’s twisted way
Has led me here
Through convoluted passages
Some dark as night
Some flights of light.

Some love whispers gentle thoughts
Some love screams the pain that’s wrought
Some love is all consuming
And some is barely felt

Some love is give
Some love is take
Some is only action
Some is only words

Some love is past
Some will be tomorrow
Some love is unrevealed

Some love grows from where it starts
Some love dries and dies

Some love has been
Divinely planned
Awaiting my embrace

Love’s winding path
Has led me on
Everchanging
Undefined
Yet always new

Now that we’ve met
Just you and I
What new kind of love
Would you like to try?

- Lisa A. Hatton

Red

Red is
the dusty walls
of the Grand Canyon
and antelopes in danger
on the open African Plains.

Red is
the colour of sunset
across the ocean.

It is the first taste
of a summer sweet strawberry.

And the smell of juicy apples
in the fridge.

Red is
the colour
of maple trees
blowing in the fall wind.

It is the feel
of accomplishing one of your goals.

Red is
a burst
of excitement.

- Conor Flanagan (Age 10)

My Valentine gift

On my way home
On a winter night
I hit a pothole
On the road, out of sight.

My Valentine gift
For my waiting crowd
Littered the floor
Mixed with mud.

I am coming, I hummed
While I fixed the flat
But Alas! My car
Refused to budge.

I am coming I heaved
The broken bag on my back Carried it on foot
To my home's door-step.

I am here, don't fret
You master came back
From the pet store in town
To her loving pets.

- Gemma Tammas

The Secret

by Michael Hiebert

For Candice, On Our Wedding Day 

They shared everything

They shared her grumpiness in the mornings, they shared his stupidity when he drank.  They shared the happy times and the sad.

They even shared bathwater.

Almost always, he bathed first and she went a good time later because he was a "morning person" and she was best described as -- well -- "not a morning person".   

They knew each other as well or better than any two people could possibly hope to ever know each other.

Or so she thought.

You see, there was this one thing she didn't know.  He had a secret.  A secret he kept year in and year out.  He didn't even know why he did it.  Maybe it allowed him to keep a feeling of independence.  Maybe it was his one piece of self-indulgence he couldn't give up; a small morsel he'd occasionally feed to that rogue part of him that he sometimes found still lurking in the shadows, left over from before they met.

Well, from before they re-met, that is.  Because in a very literal sense, they had known each other almost all of their lives but fate wanted to be certain they had enough past experiences under their belts before officially bringing them together so that they would know their soul mate when they saw it.  Fate knew it was too late in the game to leave anything up to chance and so it did its best to guarantee they would both be aware of how the other was filling in the missing spaces; how they somehow completed each other, perfectly.

And they did, except for that one little thing: that teensy tiny secret he insisted on keeping.

And kept it he did, all through their courtship and on past the wedding.  Through their forties and fifties.  He kept it through babies and almost babies.  Through birthdays and graduations.  Through Christmases, Halloweens and upside-down Thanksgiving dinners.  Through grumpy morning bathtub after grumpy morning bathtub.  He kept it so long, in fact, that it became absurd and the shame of telling her after all this time was too much. 

And so he continued to stay silent.

That is, until a month before his seventy-sixth birthday when, laying in a hospital room, he understood that his window of opportunity to finally clear his conscience could slide closed at any moment.  He decided now it was time she knew the truth.

"There's something I need to tell you," he said, "something important."

She said nothing, just sat on the edge of the bed.  Her fingers played with her wedding ring while she waited for him to speak.

He took a deep breath.  "I peed in the bath," he said solemnly, and turned his head away.

She said nothing.

He looked up, into her eyes.  "Every time," he said.  "Every single time, I peed.  I peed in the bath."

Smiling softly, she reached out and gently touched the side of his face. 

"I know," she said.

Identical twins by birth, but opposites in disposition and integrity: Dr J.M. Valentine, family physician and surgeon, was highly respected in his model community, and supported an attractive wife and family. BUT, ODDLY, brother Mack was troubled from the start, tangled repeatedly with the law, and lost all favour from his family and the townsfolk, with one exception— ( Once your bro’, always your bro’.) J.M. chose to remember the shared adventures and excitement of boyhood, and felt that his own easy path to success and acceptance had frustrated his brother into his wild, unrepentant ways. And their father had chosen to overlook many of HIS (J.W.s) shortcomings because of his accomplishments, but came down hard on Mack!

And Mack’s irresolute ways just didn’t get any better! So when he reached 18 his father decided he’d had enough, and kicked him out of the house, whereupon the young man drifted to a boarding house in Tampa, and barely survived by whatever opportunities, good or bad, happened along.

Two years later their father died from a stroke, and the prodigal son returned, to the discomfort of many — but not to J. M. Dad had been strict with Mack, he thought. Now he could help.

First of all he gave Mack a routine medical check, and to his alarm found that HIS HEART WAS SERIOUSLY IN NEED OF A TRANSPLANT! (J.M.’s own heart was on a donor list, and he would have been happy for Mack to have it in the event of his own death—but said nothing—not to anybody!)

While waiting for a heart to become available J.M. suggested they all take a vacation up at their Rocky Mountain cabin. At the moment of departure, however, Dr J.W. was called to an emergency operation, so they had to leave without him—a serious mistake!

That night, late....the children in bed.... a roaring fire.... several glasses of wine— the worldly, adventurous and immoral Mack-- seduced his brother’s wife!

Next morning J.M. phoned, but brother and wife were seen “ walking towards the river—in their pyjamas” by their eight-year-old son!”

J.M. raced towards the cabin in his car, distressed to the point that he could scarcely focus on the road. Consequently it was not long before he crashed into a tree, and ended up in hospital on life support, never to recover.

The scandal was not revealed. The townspeople accepted that Mark was heartbroken, and had moved in to fill the void, although there were— suspicions!

It was soon realized that J.W.’s heart was the perfect match for his brother’s transplant, and the operation took place—none of them realizing at the time who the donor was!

THEN one afternoon several months later, his wife opened a drawer in J.W.’s office bureau and found— A VALENTINE CARD--apparently he had written it, but was waiting for the appropriate day to hand it to her.

HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY, MY DARLING!

This heart is yours
that beats in me.
But should I die
it’s Mack’s to be.
Though if he errs--
falls off the track
I’ll rise and pluck
the darn thing back!

She stared out the window for the longest time; sobbing—the tears running down her cheeks; then took the revolver from his desk — and shot herself!

- Robin Ryan ©

ST. VALENTINE’S DAY—ADJUSTED

February 14th, 2007

Relentless February sunshine
made the ring blaze on my dash.
I was driving it to Suzy’s
when it’s sparkle made me crash..
A “Surrey Special” pothole
left me battered, gored, and gashed.

Next day I limped it to her,
stiff plaster to my chin.
She said, “YOU MISSED
  ST VALENTINE’S!!”
“GET LOST!” “Y’ CAN’T COME IN!”

My broken limbs hurt less than this!
But I, plaster-firm, showed class:
Yelled: “ STOLE IT FROM A MONKEY’S TOE!”
“RING IS COPPER! THE STONE IS-- GLASS!”

Ever since, on Valentine’s,
the card I write comes TO me!—
I read it, sigh, and munch on chocs,
all day, in my jacuzzi.
Got a rubber duck, and a toy sail boat.
“Who needs that floozie, Suzy!”

- Robin Ryan ©