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Holding my pink face like a mirror to your gaze,  I brazenly stretched a wretched arm to palm your treasured blessing of proud paternal regard, placing the prize in star-spangled eyes. Sizing your footprints with a puppy's glutinous pads, I gladly straddled my own meagre shadow, plodding your exciting wake, with rakish gestures fashionably flaunting a braggart's swagger stick. Picking the tall flowers with the sour fruit, I beautifully looted the brash treasure from the pleasure garden of aristocratic renown, clowning to your whimsy with pardonable grimly serious intent.      No criticism then could touch my mind,      for you were everything - and I was blind.