Love Is Blind

A (Very) Belated Valentine's Poem

“The poplars—see how they sway tonight?”

He murmured beneath the soft moonlight.

                “Ah,” she rejoined, “ah but my dear,

                Those are telephone poles.” He pulled her near

And pressing her closer to his chest,

He whispered, “In that bush—there, look!—a nest—

And perched beside it—hear you that?

A nightingale!” She sighed,

                “A bat.”

“But the roses,” he breathed, “they perfume the air.”

                She explained, “That’s the shampoo. You’re smelling my hair.

“My darling,” he pressed, passionate yet refined;

“I simply cannot get you out of my mind.”

And then, satisfied he’d achieved full romance

He hummed quite tone deafly and asked, “Shall we dance?”

But what would’ve come next, well, I’m sure no one knows,

For as he stepped backwards he met with the hose.

His ankles entangled, he dropped all discussion;

Landing on a trowel he received a concussion.

Oh, Mary! Oh, Mary, he meant to propose!

If only, if only, that ill-fated hose!

But some things shall not be—he had not even kissed her;

Turns outs just as well—it was her sister.