Today, in rememberance of the late John Updike, I have one of his poems.
by John Updike
At night—the light turned off, the filament
Unburdened of its atom-eating charge,
His wife asleep, her breathing dipping low
To touch a swampy source—he thought of death.
Her father's hilltop home allowed him time
To sense the nothing standing like a sheet
Of speckless glass behind his human future.
He had two comforts he could see, just two.
You can read the rest of the poem here.
At Wild Rose Reader, I have reviews of Valentine Hearts: Holiday Poetry and The Ballad of Valentine, a picture book in verse. I also have links to sites with valentine poems and book lists.
The Poetry Friday Roundup is at Wild Rose Reader today.