And the curtain drops on one more feeble, and ultimately futile, attempt to win a local radio station's annual Valentine's Day love poem contest. First prize: A romantic weekend for two at the Ritz-Carlton Hotel in beautiful downtown Cleveland, replete with deluxe accommodations, a rose-petal turndown service, gourmet truffles, a bottle of chilled champagne, and breakfast for two.
Sorry, dearest wife, we get to spend it at home with our crazy kids as we scarf down hot dogs and macaroni and cheese while watching The Simpsons on DVD. Hey, I tried. Next year, I'll write from the guise of a Viagra-saturated, pill-popping senior comedian, the apparently preferred modus operandi of the entrants. Anyway, the losing entry:
Far from your embrace, the pleasant madness,
sensations lured to sleep in ornament.
Rustling colors spark scenes of your caress,
memorials smile in the firmament.
The splendor of gardens in dark of night
lies withered, its enchantment disappears.
Solitude thunders, your absence a blight
that draws heaven down, a cloudburst of tears.
Harvesting ardor, verse of sorcery
shapes my final hope with this magic spell;
casting words, a homage to your beauty,
l'amour ablaze as the fires of hell.
Through smoke and fever comes the scent of bliss;
borne on the wind, the rich bloom of your kiss.
Oh, that's why I lost. Now I get it. Nevermind.