Won’t you be mine Oh Valentine Please say you will Or I’ll be ill. I’m praying you’ll say You possibly may Though, given my luck, I’ll simply upchuck. The problem with fleas And the pop in my knees All are in check So …. what the heck. Look and you’ll see I’m now dander-free I’m cute and I’m well So …. what the hell. I lie here and wait Unsure of my fate Equal parts, hope Equal parts, mope. Two roads diverged in a yellow wood And, hoping for at least a text, I waited longer than I should Besnowed, besleeted where I stood Becalmed, bereft and mildly vexed. You could at least have let me know; You had the time to send a tweet I’m there accumulating snow It’s nearing twenty-one below And I can’t even feel my feet! But as my rose (for you) drooped dead A car approached with welcome news Its ermined driver, smiling, said “Seems you could use a nice warm bed.” An offer I could not refuse! When I think of the effort put into my verse And the money I spend on you out of my purse For fine TV dinners And sure Lotto winners I expect something better … or at least nothing worse.