JustBreathe Posted February 14, 2008 Share Posted February 14, 2008 May I just say Valentines Day is just horrible for me today what with all the ladies getting roses and flower bouquets at work like the ones my H used to give me long ago? Keeeerist. Is anyone else out there going to be as glad as I am going to be when Valentine's Day is OVER? Link to post Share on other sites
BetrayedMM Posted February 14, 2008 Share Posted February 14, 2008 Yeah. Me. Link to post Share on other sites
Author JustBreathe Posted February 14, 2008 Author Share Posted February 14, 2008 Darn. Let's think of something positive to say, huh? Shall we try? Here's a Valentine's Day poem (googled it, and left a couple of stanzas out): Can you love the wrinkles on your face? Can you love you, old and gray? Can you love the crying infant? Can you love someone today? Can you love the hobbled old man? Can you love the arrogant youth? Can you love the lover of money? Can you love the speaker of truth? Can you love yourself at your better, best, worst? Can you love yourself from last to first? Would you give away the shirt on your back? When the time is right, would you ask for it back? No, we are not children, those days are gone We are all grown up, and trying to be strong But what is left for us? A smile here, a wink there, a good meal, the satisfaction of having done the right thing, and conversation, conversation, conversation a lover's touch, of that, let us not say too much Isn't there, after all, a wisdom in aging? Link to post Share on other sites
Author JustBreathe Posted February 14, 2008 Author Share Posted February 14, 2008 Well darn. That wasn't too positive after all, was it. Link to post Share on other sites
BetrayedMM Posted February 14, 2008 Share Posted February 14, 2008 Tick... Tick... Tick... It'll be over eventually. There. Positive. Link to post Share on other sites
Author JustBreathe Posted February 15, 2008 Author Share Posted February 15, 2008 I phoned him and asked if we should take the kids out to dinner tonight or something. My H says, nope, he's making dinner. Bratwurst. I think there's some kind of hidden meaning, don't you? Well at least I don't have to cook. Ain't love GRAND??!!! Bratwurst. I think I'm going to get out one of those expensive bottles of wine he so miserly covets, open it and have nice big glass of Valentines Day love. I just wrote a depressing poem, thusfar it is only one stanza, and already it's too long. Tick...tock...tick...tock... Link to post Share on other sites
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