I don’t want roses,
I don’t want chocolate –
as strange as that may seem.
I don’t want diamonds
or rubies or pearls
in settings all agleam.
I don’t want wining and dining,
not even a home-cooked meal.
Silky lingerie won’t sway me,
and perfume holds little appeal.
I don’t want a mani or pedi,
a facial or a massage.
A night out dancing won’t do it,
nor a night in a snow-laden lodge.
No, give me a tidy white kitchen,
a bathroom that’s pure and pristine,
a living room swept till it’s spotless,
with the cleanest floors I’ve ever seen.
Lure me into a boudoir that’s straightened,
on a neatly made bed I’ll recline;
for your dusting has turned me to lusting
and I’ll be your Valentine.
©2011 Carlotta Eike Stankiewicz