by Timo Onjukka





Mid the month of winters day, 

hark the words St. Valentine.

Every one in his own way

wants to say "be mine".


If were i could be so bold
to wish instead for this;
words my lips for thou foretold
that such could share much bliss.

Were thou mine i'd gleeful dance;
mine heart would joyful sing!
Yet rather than mere entranced
i'd loves great freedom bring.

Fain i'd wish thou to be mine,
would lock away thine heart. 
Risk not spill, too sweet a wine
which spoileth from the start.

My wish instead for thou my friend,
no truer wish, mine valentine;
my wish for thou, with no sure end,
that will thou heart be thine?

For 'till thy heart is thine, is thine,
thou surely cannot empty, give
to hungered hearts such love divine,
and yet, too mortal, live.

Own thy heart, and give it not,
demand it neither spilled.
Know sure it canst be bought,
nor cheap with words be filled.

Give thine heart what she demand; 
that liberty hold tender, fast.
Liberty, she's loves last stand;
love when free, shall ever last.

Do not be mine, be thine, i cry;
be thine, is love's demand.
If, as thine, thou choose be mine,
then give thou i mine hand…

Mine hand can never, absent love,
touch my lips to love's sweet tea;
nor my lips speak truth above,
until content, that hearts love free.

Do not chain or be entwined, 
Set free the love that set you free;
there our hearts might ever find
love ever sail 'tween me and thee.

Fair winds that blow this sea of love;
trust fair the winds that blow.
And high on clouds and stars above
Only God doth four winds know.

( © Timo Antero Onjukka 2010 all rights reserved)