Who has the time to wax poetic for Valentine's Day? The baby is crying, school's about to dismiss, and you're out of diswasher detergent--I get it. You aren't going to pick up a plume and pen an ode to your partner's finest qualities any time soon.
But don't the day's little moments make you want to laugh, cry, or sigh with relief? Doesn't it all add up to love, or something like it? And isn't that worth pausing to remember? A haiku is only seventeen syllables, after all.
I'm wracking my brain
for my kids' Valentine gifts.
Oh, and my husband's.
Reaching, hacking, blocks
over-the-back and holding:
Valentine card aisle
"I love Godiva!
I make one piece last all day!"
WTH, lady?
On the valentines
I write to each of my sons:
From your first true love
Hoping for roses
lighting a Yankee Candle
that smells like roses.
Forget the chocolate,
the flowers, the lingerie.
Just come home on time!
Writing a love note
but "I choose you, Pikachu"
is all that I got.
Wearing my skinnies
which may cut off my blood flow
but do improve his.
After all these years
he keeps the romance alive
by pooping downstairs.
Peyton Price is the author of Suburban Haiku: Poetic Dispatches From Behind The Picket Fence. You can find her curled up with her box of Godiva, and on twitter.