Be My Pandemic Valentine
I know you’ve seen a lot of me,
since we can’t go outdoors,
but do you sigh regretfully
that I’m so wholly yours?
Because I use a downstairs room
to write, while you’re up yonder
(upstairs, I mean), can I assume
that absence makes you fonder?
Perhaps by March the snows will cease
or, freed by a vaccine,
our lockdown blues will find release
from love in quarantine.
You’re still the one that I adore;
I’m sure I have your heart,
and yet . . . I think you’ll like me more
when we can be apart.