by Kenneth Ray Carmichael
I wonder... does cupid ever fall in love?
Even his fate is controlled by the above
Does his heart ever ache or skip a beat?
Has cupid ever been swept off his feet?
Does his stomach ever fill with butterflies?
I wonder if Cupid has ever been shy, or ever cried
Or if on his very first kiss did he, too, close his eyes?
Can he strike his own heart when his golden arrow flies?
Is Cupid, the great giver of love, himself alone,
Without a soft voice to whisper in his ear
Or a gentle ear to listen to his every woe?
Who is there to hold him as his eyes slowly close?