Another Hallmark Moment

On Valentine’s,

I didn’t think of hearts

but of shamrocks,

of St. Patrick,

the lush and kelly greens

of the Irish,

the luck that clovers bring.

So leave your blood-filled, beating

organ at the door

and your chocolates, flowers, with it.

Let me pine for almost Spring

and a romp under leaves,

through grasses.

You can have your snowy day

and diamonds, pearls, to go.

You can have your lover’s kiss

and night of heated sex –

No, I’m lying.

Forgive me, Triune God,

and Mr. & Mrs. O’Shea.

Your time has not yet come,

for I need to hold and be held,

love and be loved and make love,

and dream of Dublin another day,

another month, when the vestige of red

has melted with the white.

Andreas Gripp

RF Image