series2bk7.103

 

A beautiful bulbous balloon lifts me high

and skyward, on a clean current of thermal air -

my chair to heaven, till I spot you standing below,

with bow and arrow firing pot-shots at my carapace.

   The narrow misses fill me with despair; not

that the shots are adequate to bring me down to earth,

but the worth you set on anything I seek to achieve

leaves me peeved at your modest (grudging) praise.

    It amazes me that you who've watched me grow,

know so little of what I seek to become,

drumming it home on all possible occasions

that my station in life is set by the family grade.

    Is that the highest mark you can bestow

    on one who puts the total man on show?