Before this poem starts, I shall clarify and say,
Even I will be stirring on Valentine’s Day.
So stranger, fret little; I don’t hate romance—
I hate it when students give dating a chance.
I see them in the halls, their hands tied in a knot,
A new couple, a senior with another—what?
A sophomore, you say? Well, do not be surprised
that cross-grade dating will continue to thrive,
For people shall find love in all different places,
From glaciers to towns to those dark scary spaces.
You’ll read it in books, You’ll see it in movies,
You’ll find in in poems, developing though these
Affairs of the heart—and whilst you may be dreaming,
The mind is beguiled; your emotions are scheming
To be closer to those whom you do not hate.
But why date a student who’s new to 10th grade?
Don’t object to my slander, I have more to say;
(Again) to clarify, I like Valentine’s Day.
If you have found love, then I’m happy for you!
Yet, you’ve always had people your age to choose.
Now, no romance is doomed by a age gap so small;
But come to your senses, stop hand-holding in halls.
When you’re off to college and leaving next spring,
The freshman nearby should not be your first fling.
And Virgil, you argue, with this please do you cease,
They’re couples in love, who do you try to appease?
None, dear reader, for cross-grade dating is odd.
Dating is for naught—it is just a facade.
I am not jealous; the green-eyed monster is dead.
Who’d want to date me after what I’ve just said?
But I suppose, in the end, if you have found love;
The small age gap is stupid when push comes to shove.
So whilst moonlight dies, should Cupid come and visit,
Let him know (kindly) that I want no part of it.
Let this holiday teach us all a new thing;
Cross grade dating is weird, and so I must sing.