TO FEBRUARY

Of love, be true or not, so long be love, qualities of such must be, for one be called as such.

Your month, dear cupid, 'tis here at last,

a month of hunger, and that of lust.

For such a month brought me to earth,

a month of treats, my time of birth.

So now I would, as men would do,

define an act few men cling to.

For love be that of sex, desire,

for love be that of smiles bizarre.

Hear me men, love not, these things,

nor be it those by kids with wings.

For love, dear men, I say to you,

is every breath I live for You.

I care not what, men now will say,

so long my God, I'm here to stay.

by me so lone this month I've written. Vinciento Galimore