Valentyne

That is how it should be spelled, I think. If I write a story about a girl, her name will be Valentyne. She'll be young and French but from Morocco, and she'll be smallish and darkish without being either small or dark.  She'll have just a touch of downiness upon her arms and lips that are full and colored like cherries. Her voice will make birds gather and weep with happiness. She will be quiet and melancholy and much alone, often going unnoticed, but not by me. I will love the slight swelling of her belly and the way she gazes with an almost imperceptible smile upon her face like Mona Lisa. She'll dress in dark, rich colors, full skirts and subtly patterned dresses. Walking down cobbled, winding streets, she'll carry a woven basket full of fresh cut flowers in the bend of her elbow. A friend will call to her from a window above--"VAL-EN-TEEN." She will look up, smile and wave. It will be February 14. It will be Valentyne's Day.