It doesn’t really matter what day it is.
The symbolism is lost on me;
I look around, wound up in the horrific world
of Capitalism’s greed–
Then, I catch sight of a tiny,
giggly girl-child, a sparkle in her
mocha velvet eyes, as she spies
the chocolate lab puppy, red bow tied neatly
around the scruff of its neck wiggling
its hind legs excitedly within the undersized
Red fleece stocking
Her very own thing to love–
She loves it more than anything
Because she has not yet learned to love.
Even her parents whom she thinks she loves
Because she relies on them,
are not loved, not like how I love my
Parents for the good people that
I know them to be. The puppy
She loves purely for she can tend it
And it will love her back without judgment.
So, it doesn’t matter what day it is
Because love, no matter when it was born,
Finds a way to remind me
That regardless of when it begins,
Takes a lifetime to appreciate.