On a cold Monday morning, Rose up at the first break of dawn, Its the month of February, And the days are running up to the valentine, Some with their angels of their hearts, Some with hearts being mend by angels Some with plans galore, for ever to last, Some with a lasting scar that glares in the dark. Some with chocolates and roses, Some with chocolate wrappers and faded petals. For those lucky some, be sincere with respect, For the other souls, be sincere too, To you and your beautiful days yet to come. Just wait. A valentine would come
