What We May Call This © Cyril Wong Holding each other's gazes like lonely hands across a field of dark, we may call this love for the crippling inability to define this, as our solitudes rise and fall like wings on a single butterfly, each destination in time a gratifying flower. Junction © Cara Alson 1980 Published: Glowing Embers, 1984 You touched my heart with your eyes, You embraced my soul with your words. You accepted me. And I was not afraid. Valentine Rose © The Quill 2002 My valentine I give you my hand drawn red rose. It will always be in blossom and never to drop a single petal. You can take anywhere it needs no water or special care. Its ever living never dying as my... LOVE! My Love © Charlotte Gai Mair No love could be so deep or float so high as when we share a kiss le Saint-Denis (à Louis-Dominique) © Richard Vallance, février/ February, 2002 Te souviens-tu de la soirée où l’on a dîné tranquillement dans le faubourg Saint-Denis [1], sous la lune toujours moirée dont le silence resplendit dès aujourd'hui d'amour? [1] Il s'agit du faubourg Saint-Denis à Montréal, plutôt que du quartier à Paris. Translation into "literal" English prose Do you recall the evening when we dined at our entire leisure in the quartier Saint-Denis,[1] beneath the lambent moon whose silence will forever remain resplendent with love? [1] I am referring to quartier Saint-Denis in Montréal, not in Paris. Transliteration into English Verse Do you as well as I recall the night we dined alone together in Saint-Denis, as over Montréal her cool moon's light eclipsed the moon of all too fickle Paris! LUNACY © Jan Sand The moon in its phases Conjures the phrases Of Valentine dazes. Whether gibbous or bloated, When verses are floated On hormones emoted, The sphere we name Luna Is, later or soona, When munching on tuna Or gulping down gin, The source of chagrin If evokes a grin Instead of great passion In second month fashion. So put all your cash on The hope it inspires Emotional fires Fulfilling desires. Last word from the Editor (not entered in contest) KISSES © Sara L. Russell 1998 I always loved kisses, molten and sweet, which leave the lips humbled, trembling, replete. I remember so often, so many, such time as when kisses spoke love within smooth, silent mime and in recent days when their touch became less how my lips thirsted for some such caress and so it went on for thirsty, long years - then you kissed me, last night and my eyes filled with tears.