Flowers & Chocolate
A Galentine’s Day poem
Red, heart-shaped box of
chocolates in hand — I walked
toward the exit.
I looked up and saw
a young man standing amongst
the flowers, looking
down at his chosen
bouquet in hand, his love and
hope so apparent,
I smiled. He never
saw me and would never know
the chocolates I
held were for me, and
my Galentine. Two single,
older women who
have learned the art of
loving no matter what the
circumstances — Give
us joy, sorrow, grief,
ecstasy, single mother-
hood, good income tax
returns, homelessness,
loneliness, depression, pain,
connection, laughter,
light, sparkles, rainbows—
Give us boys we thought were men,
death to an angel,
a feeling we thought
was safety, home, love coming
from another, just
to realize it
was coming from us. Because
after all we’ve been
through, we know how to
make beauty from pain — We know
how to hold and give
more than enough love
to ourselves, and each other.
Which means, my smile to
the young man with the
flowers was genuine, yes,
even though it had
only been a week
since my most recent heartbreak,
and even though it
had been thirty-eight
years of waiting for real love,
in human form, yes —
Even though I held
a box of chocolates for
myself, I could still
well up with joy at
the sight of love, and when I
reached the home of my
Galentine, she showed
me the flowers she bought for
herself. One more smile.
Yes! We know love
and the many ways it can look,
we know love
is more powerful than
all the darkness
the universe contains.
We know love
makes us powerful, too.
