affection

I prance a pretty step in tip-toe dance,

glancing with anxious eyes into haughty faces -

embraces on offer if I juggle my deft feet

to meet their exacting prickled expectations.

Chasing my own star of immortality,

I gallop the bridle-path I half saw

in the sworn silence of a night vision, courting

derision (obscenely) if I'm seen to stumble or fall.

Mauled by the cageless tiger of my own doubt,

I must stoutly venture ever onwards, bonded

to ambition in seeking admission to Parnassian heights,

fighting grim battles, within and without.

But ne'er again (if I'm to win this fight)

should I set treasures down for them to slight.