Valentine to My Self


It’s true you’re not the youngest
Or (by far) most beautiful
Specimen of womanhood,
But I am comf’table
When we hang out together
That you won’t some drama pull

You like it peaceful in the home
That’s the way I like it too
Don’t always have to worry ’bout
Some storm bein’ on the brew
When other folks leave you alone
You leave them alone too

That’s not to say you’re perfect —
It’s certain that your mode of dress
Is unendorsed by anyone
A fashion sense might bless
It’s really kind of pretty, though
I guess I must confess

I don’t mind when I have to stand
Aside when strangers talk to you
‘Bout what they see and say and
What they think and dream and do
Because they seem to better feel
Each time when you are through

In conversation it is true
You never to the subject keep
But what you do say’s sometimes known
To make a strong man weep
Because it gives him back the
Self respect he thought he couldn’t keep

Sometimes the body you neglect
But never so the soul
You make sure to preserve our love
Fresh, pure, pristine and whole
No separation from your Self
Will you consent yourself enroll

So sneaking deeds of selfishness
No small lies of convenience
No grabbing petty power
At some other soul’s expense
No focus on revenge —
True inner due diligence

As a result I get to feel
That without let or hindrance
I may defenceless be
In one place in this wicked world:
That’s in your company!


This poet is so poor that she can’t even pay proper attention. The littlest contribution, believe her, will be vastly appreciated —