(I)

It's bloody Valentine's,

When the world wants

To drop its guard;

Say "I love you"

From behind a card.

But I know you like

This kind of thing.

So baby, please

Be (a) my Quarantine's

(II)

I hate to write you love poems.

My words dare not bare

The burden,

The titanic stress,

Of describing a single

Strand

Of

Your

Hair

(III)

Even after,

All these years.

You still turn

My head.

When you

Enter the room.

You are my dawn,

My reason to start the day.