Can cynics tumble into love?
Can skeptics rush like fools?
Can doubters put the blinders on
and logic overrule?

Do pessimists surrender and
allow themselves to fall?
Does any stalwart lover climb
and breach their lofty wall?

Do scorners ever find themselves
aflutter and agog?
What do they do to push on through
and navigate love’s fog?

I cannot guess a mocker’s heart
I only know my own
and when the songs of love do start
my sense is overthrown

I rush and tumble, blind and dumb,
fall further with each kiss
Whatever they may call it, I
can only call it bliss

So call me silly and unwise
‘twill only be in vain
I never will resist love’s pull
romantic I’ll remain.