Valentine's day.

When I read the prompt of this entry, I thought at first to write about how Capitalism uses Valentine’s Day in the same way they use Christmas, or  Halloween, how much  corporations earn in one day of Valentine’s day, what happens with Valentine’s decorations on February 15th, and how mainstream it is now, providing an economic and social analysis to Valentine’s Day. But writing about this probably will make me look like a cynical snob, so instead I choose to write my first original sonnet about a girl that I have a crush on, and that rides my bus, and one day, she dressed so fancy that she looked more beautiful than ever before. As the person in my entry A Letter, this girl is a real person, but I don’t have photos of her because I don’t know her and I would look like a creep asking her for a photo just to put it in my scrapbook, and she makes me feel a little shy, so I just look at her at the distance discretely (but not creepily). Like I said, this is my very first sonnet that I write in my own, so it might be a little corny, but by no way it’s cliché (I believe).

Sonnet to the girl on the bus.

Today, a girl has sat next to my seat.

She wears a shirt, a suit, and a black skirt.

Her pearl necklace is as white as her teeth.

Her elegance makes me feel inexpert.

She attracts my fearful eyes when she looks away

But when she turns to me, I look down and play fool.

Does she feel me while she looks the highway?

I ask this curious question to my soul.

Make her mine? I don't think that's possible.

I'm sure that she has someone on her mind.

Or she want her heart not to be a gamble

Because I can't talk to her, I have pinned.

I hope that one day I will have the courage

To talk to her at least about the journal.