My Valentine’s Day Poem

I don’t know if I ever told this story and published this on LJ, and I’m too lazy to look, and I don’t care.  About twenty *cough* years ago I was dating The Girl Who Broke My Heart, and we went into an Italian restaurant called Ceatti’s for Valentine’s Day (this was before she Broke My Heart, y’know).  Turns out they were having a poetry contest.  You had to write a poem that started, “Roses are red, violets are blue.”  I don’t remember what first prize was, but third prize was dinner for two, and second prize was a silver bracelet.  I won the bracelet; I never got to see the poem that beat me.

Anyway, in celebration of Valentine’s Day, here it is:

Roses are red, violets are blue

How peculiar if the reverse were true.

If roses were blue and violets were red

Would violets have the thorns instead?

Would lips be violet in poem or prose?

Would Liz Taylor’s eyes be compared to a rose?

Wine-lists would be only to smile at:

“Would you care for white, or red, or vio-lat?”

What odd confusion would ensue

If violets were red, and roses were blue.


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I play the drum.

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