As written by a desperate husband....
Oh My God! It's 6am
and Valentine's today,
I forgot the flowers, and the chocs,
What will my dear wife say?
But Hark, she sleeps, a-snoring still,
In day's still gawkish dawn.
I still have time before she kills
me on this frosty morn.
So leap I to our trusty van
Hands and heart a twitter
I wish that I were more a man
but terror gives me jitters.
Foot down, floored out,
I drive like one possessed
And hear a crunch, a mangled shout
As the van did come to rest.
"Cain't ya look just where you drive,"
My neighbor really clamored.
He stumbled from his ruined car
Devoid of all his manners
The twisted wreckages I saw and wept
Surely naught is done in vain?
Till down the street my eyes have swept
And hope will rise again.
“I’ll call you back,” I turned to run,
My feet so swift and fleet.
“I need Valentine presents for my Hun,
Or my death will not be sweet.”
Three houses down, and near to boot
Was Sally and her son
Where they headed was really moot
With Valentine’s begun.
Then, perchance, the neighbors dog
All caught up in furor
Got all excited at my jog
And rocketed through his door.
With giant leap, and boundless bound
He jumped the picket fence
And then proceeded, without a sound
To chew my butt from thence.
With flailing hands, and mawkish grin
I fell upon my face
Wondering on the mess I’m in
And blamed the human race.
“Away, away,” said Sally’s son
For he’s a brave young soul
To chase away the canine dun
That tried to eat me whole
“Come on, come on, come to the car,”
Sally dragged me on
“We must get to
"St John’s ER,
Before his breath is gone.”
“But mom he’s bitten. Not half dead.”
Sally’s son decried
“Be quiet, oh son,” I banged my head
As I, salvation, spied.
Seated now, in Sally’s car,
Head, butt and hands in tatters
I knew at last we’d traveled far
To the place that really matters
Just one more turn and there we’d be
A store I knew so well
A florist’s called “Oh, To Be a Bee.”
Shortly to become my Hell.
Without a thought Sally began
To pass right by my haven
The terror points within me sang
And I hadn’t even shaven
“Turn right!” I screamed and right she did,
Straight through the florist’s door
With screeching brakes she slid and skid
and threw me to the floor.
Two broken legs, a thigh, an arm,
Maybe a rib or two.
I didn’t think they’d be much harm
If I took a rose or few
And when they came and stretchered me
I made certain to ask and tell
The florist I’d make sure and see
That she’d be paid real well.
It took an hour, or two, or ten
St Johnsto splint me up.
And someone called, I don’t know when
My dearest Buttercup.
When my beloved wife arrived
She just shook her head in sorrow
“You did all this, and didn’t realize
That it’s Valentine’s, tomorrow…?”