The Unvalentine

Writing a sonnet with flowers writ above

Or casting your dreams in colour below
Then sending them to someone you love
Dispatching those thoughts that never go 
Anywhere other than the imagination
Or sealed in that drawer marked maybe
The crumpled address of no destination
Where second hand thought returns empty
To the post code of a hopeless infatuation
In the unparalleled universe of rejection
Is most times a hearts breaking situation
If letters to yourself remain unanswered
Or scrawled in red ink on the envelope
Return to sender unknown at this address.