this cold day of the Saint Valentine
A modest sonnet I will write for you,
With meter fine and in Shakespearean rhyme,
Your praise I'll sing to all, for it is due.
At words I'm often lost in such a task
To catch your grace and charm in poetry;
At times like this I rest and try to bask
In verse by Robert Smith and Morrissey.
Your yellow hair, like golden coins, does shine
Like light from Helios's outstretched arms;
With endless gratitude my heart shall dine
On words from your sweet lips, so soft and warm--
To all I'll cry from Provo to Baghdad
"The girl I dig is gnarly, cool, and rad!"
- Ash, Winter 1989