At Valentine’s Office

At Valentine’s Office

I lay the pink roses I bought,
  For her, but not for her,
On the window sill by the coat rack,
  Thinking, though without water,
They might still enjoy the afternoon sun,
  Perhaps their last

“Did you buy those flowers for her?”
  That’s a question no man answers directly,
So she asked again
  “Can I look at them?”

“Alright, but don’t parade them about,
   I need them kept a secret”
   
She picked up the bouquet as one would a baby,
  A a kitten, firmly, but adoring,
Cradling, nuzzling, smiling,
  Her fingers at their swaddling

I warned her kindly
“Don’t tear the wrapping,
  I need all intact tonight”

“They’re beginning to open,” she beamed,
“They feel warm from the window,
  And the scent!”

Then and there, the Office Girl,
  She could have been the Christmas Mary,
Holding that babe more special
  Than all the world,
Which, after a sigh, she placed
  Back on the sill, in that golden shaft of light,
As only a young woman endearing of
  A mans love for another can do