I never once had to glance behind
or pause to wonder whether you were there
or stopped myself from doing as I dare.
If I turned back, I know what I would find:
I'd see you there, your sharp, determined mind
on me and only me. I always flare
up with affection when you prove you care
and can't keep going. I face forward, blind.
And yet I always have to drag you out
and push you in and torture and harass
because you never run and never shout
and never see the rainbow in the glass.
If you were much less steady, I would doubt,
but maybe there'd be something to surpass.
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