A Poem For Valentine’s


One of my favourites, by e.e. cumings


e-e-cummings-ceremony-reading

Love isn’t Valentine’s Day and love isn’t last minute flowers or generic cards. It’s not an 8pm dinner reservation on the 14th February with a set menu and a single red rose. It’s not something you write in between two pieces of card, it’s something you feel in your blood. This poem, written in the midst of World War Two, gets that.

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