This is my favorite poem for Feb 14:
A single flower he sent me, since we met
All tenderly his messenger he chose,
Deep-hearted, pure, with scented dew still wet
One perfect rose.
I knew the language of the floweret
"My fragile leaves," it said, "his heart enclose."
Love long has taken for his amulet
One perfect rose.
Why is it no one ever sent me yet
One perfect limousine, do you suppose?
Ah no, it's always just my luck to get
One perfect rose.
by. Dorothy Parker
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