First Valentines evoke the joy
Of boy meets girl and girl meets boy.
In new found love they twine and twist;
In an artless lover’s tryst.
Maturing, as the years pass on,
Each Valentine’s a marathon.
Now with art they twist and twine;
In orgasmic sixty nine.
But after seven years or so
Valentines start running low.
Though love persists, below its crust
Each hankers after long lost lust.
The fond caress, predictable,
Is pleasant but does not fulfil.
Wife or husband, each may dream
Of chances missed; what “might have been”.
Some resist, but many other
Will succumb and take a lover,
Fidelity they compromise:
But who are we to criticise?
For love and lust fill different needs.
The mind, to subtle signals heeds:
Selfish hormones baldly state
Which bodies they desire to mate.
Love is in thought’s abstract mesh;
Lust within the urging flesh.
Seldom in the years that come
Will both apply to just the one.