Valentine, Awaited

the sitting room tightens in to contain me,

the birds whisper their words,

leaving the day silent for me to hear,

or perhaps again only hope to hear,

the steps of the next of messengers to come,

and my feet, dashing toward the door,

hiding, waiting, behind the sitting room door,

knowing not if this shall be redemption or my doom.

My heart beats faster, peeking out,

the see the stiff and somber card

handed messenger to herald,

hoping that this will be the one,

the one to say you love me, truly,

fearing this will be another,

another suitor, encouraged by others,

unaware that I wait, my heart holding its secrets,

for one whose name I dare not breathe.