Valentines Day, some lecher sent
a bunch of roses, rotten swine.
The cheek of it! Without consent,
he also sent a crate of wine.
I was, of course, shocked and aghast.
How dare he. I won’t be harassed.
Next thing, the brute will want to chat.
I really would not care for that.
Romance is dead, he’s bound to scoff.
Like chivalry, it’s been killed off.
Sally Forth
