"for robertrx"
In grandeur the earth beneath you sweeps
While I stand embarrassed. Terror's cheap
But at mine you offer silver-gilt to gently mirror
Our close red room's soft amusement at my error,
A lack of grace that stings the sensitive to weep.
Yet grace with you is not so rare. It seeps
From chest to breast, infuses bone, flows deep
To call your swinging breath's long signal clearer.
In grandeur the earth beneath you sweeps.
You dance hard parlous near to faith, which sleeps
Alone. In New York the price of self-belief runs steep:
Yes, stammer then to stumble -- that's my horror.
Still, by a whisper, you draw me nearer:
"No fault tango," you smile with mercy free, not cheap.
In grandeur the earth beneath you sweeps.
-- femfatalatron, nyc
