if i could have you valentine,
i would drop a golden
apple- those delightful
shimmering spheres of the
illustrious Aphrodite,
whose translucent skin
attracted the harsh
eye of Atalanta,
while in her stupor,
plucked her eyes treat
from a bed of grass
while her beguiling lover
marveled at his newly
won prize- i desire not
to captivate you love, but
know this Valentine,
my heart is an
orchard of
ripening fruit,
awaiting the eager
hand of yours to
reach into my lush
canopies and pluck
my golden heart
from its stem
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