“What is love?” I asked the poet of romance.
“Tis a rapturous dance
Wherein lovers lose countless hours
In verdant bowers
“What is love?” I asked the advertising executive in his suit of gray.
“Tis money you pay
On Valentines Day
For the overpriced chocolates I
Want lovers to buy”.
“What is love?” I asked the scientist in his white coat.
“Tis a chemical reaction in the brain
That causes pleasure and pain,
From which few can refrain”.
“What is love?” I asked the working girl.
“Tis a pearl
I once had but then did sell
As all men know well”.
“What is love?”
I asked the rake.
He refered me to the girl above
But could no further answer make.