Poem | The Potential

It’s Valentine’s Day, folks! Have you noticed?

Apparently, you have to identify with one of two camps; the hardcore Valentine’s lovers, or those who condemn it as a corporate holiday.

I am in neither.

I know it’s all a big show, and I’m not one for grand PDAs, but there will always be a little part of me who hopes for a little romance (and not just on February 14th).

Last year I wrote a piece about how I would still be celebrating the day in my own way (and, for the record, I’ll be doing the same today.)

This year, I wanted to write a love poem, but all that would come to me were words about my eternal hope for flirtation and enchantment.

So here it is; my gift to you, this Valentine’s Day.

Be mine?


The Potential

The whisper of romance lingers
at the back of my tongue like a half-gone cherry drop.
Split, cracked edges nick at my taste buds,
pick-pick-picking away at the flesh that
would form the words I want.
It hovers like hands over moments that could be
and hides around corners of bookshops
and lies in wait at the coffee-shop counter with a comment or two
and the promise of caffeine and kisses and catfights.
A minute that might be at any one point.
I’ll be patient.
I’ll wait.





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