Valentine's arrives dressed in roses,
but beneath the petals lives a question:
What is love?
Plato calls it a climb toward light.
Aristotle, a habit of choosing well.
Sartre, a risk we take without guarantees.
Yet here we are,
holding hands across uncertainty,
turning 'I' into 'We'
like a quiet revolution of the heart.
Perhaps love is philosophy in bloom;
not a theory to solve,
but a truth we practice
in red.