My Dirty Valentine
Love is the language of poets. It lends itself to figures of speech and flowery language. How do I love thee?
I love thee with similes. I love thee with hyperbole, and I love thee with metaphors. My favorite simile about love the answer to a riddle I learned when I was a very little girl: Love is like a hole.
Q: What gets bigger, the more you give it away?
Happy Valentine's Day, to you, to yours. I hope your day is filled with chocolates, doilies, and delight. And I hope you share the love: leave your favorite book in a coffee shop for the next java junkie, carry someone else's burden for a while, throw out the trash without grinching, be nice when you're feeling crabby. Ask yourself: could I go so far as to let my sister have the caramel-filled chocolate from the Godiva box?
However you answer that question, keep digging at the hole; keep throwing good seeds in. Good things will sprout.
Not just a rose, but a whole rose garden.
That's the dirt on love.
Love is a rose but you better not pick it
Only grows when it's on the vine
Handful of thorns and you'll know you've missed it
Lose your love when you say the word mine
I wanna see what's never been seen
I wanna live that age-old dream
Come on boy let's go together
Let's take the best right now
I wanna go to an old hoedown
Long ago in a western town
Pick me up 'cause my feet are dragging
Give me a lift and I'll hay your wagon
Love is a rose but you better not pick it
Only grows when it's on the vine
Handful of thorns and you'll know you've missed it
Lose your love when you say the word mine
~Neil Young
