The Perfect Gift
Love is like a Noble gas
that, without warning fills the room
Or the flower that
never wilts, always in perfect bloom
The laws of physics,
love often refutes
No matter the
objects, it seems never to dilute
No eyes, yet it always seems to see
No arms, yet it
always lies alee
Surely no ears, yet
it always seems to hear
Not just the sounds,
but also a lover’s inner fears.
And when it comes to
the tactile sense
So very lasting, so
very intense
With nary a twitch,
nor slightest sniff
All manner of aromas,
it will easily sift
The future it may not
always be quick to foretell
But a honed sixth
sense within surely dwells
Like a nova it may
burst into white hot flame
From gifts for
passion to unleash and worries to tame
The roses, candles,
chocolates, jewelry and cards
Soften up the heart
for the moment of the bard
For roses wilt,
candles burn, flicker and no longer light the room
Cards find the trash
and chocolate no matter how fine is finally consumed
Not the roses are red
and violets are blue
No, another melody of
a different, warming hue,
No, the muse who in
the soft quiet of the night
When of all the
senses only love has any sight
And can hear the
heart in rhythmic beat
And can feel the warm
glow beneath the sheets
Leaves then the poem
that will be the perfect gift
Up the highs, sooth
the lows and mend a not—too—often rift
A poem of many
stanzas tailored to one’s lover unique
And why with all the
blessings no need to another ever seek
But a poem with a central
rhythmic core
“You cause my heart
to beat faster, my soul to soar
No matter the time,
nor date of year
Each day with you has
a Valentine to clutch so dear.”
Michael P. Ridley
a/k/a the Alaskan
Poet, www.alaskanpoet.blogspot.com
February 8, 2011
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