I don’t have anything to say myself about the 14th February, but after The Guardian shared this this morning I felt the need to put it on here and suggest you read it.
The poem is as follows in case the link doesn’t work (but for full proper formatting read The Guardian):
The lyf so short, the craft so long to lerne…
but be my valentine
and I’ll one candle burn,
love’s light a fluent tongue,
old habit young, the door ajar
to where our bed awaits,
not in a room
but in a wood, all thrilled with birds,
the flight of early English words to poetry,
there as sweetness evermore now is,
this human kiss,
love’s written bliss in every age…
hold the front page.
Carol Anne Duffy