Cherie, don’t ask if love is true,
Its painful deprivations fair.
What seven scholars ever knew
Why lovers care or cease to care?
Don’t think of love as some disease
(The product of a spell or curse
According to Hippocrates)
Which only passion can reverse.
Don’t theorize that love is just,
Which changes with a lover’s eyes,
Or seek to forge a bond with trust,
If bondage ends in love’s demise.
Don’t grow incensed as loved ones age;
Love’s for the spirit, not the eye.
What god would bear a lover’s rage?
Complain of love and watch it die.
And never think of love as good
Or anything but free and wild.
The thing that’s most misunderstood:
The God of Love is just a child.
