Saturday, April 13, 2013

For Tycho

The fires of the night glitter in your eye
and the rumbling of the storm is your cloak. 

Your footfalls are the padding whispers of death
but your silken caress is far more gentle. 

Your tail is a question mark and a balance
and you are the king of acrobatic feats. 

You know no fear of being made a man's slave
but the oddest provocations can spook you. 

You are a warrior, a comforter too,
and your clownish antics are in character. 

You dance and leap with great fervor and passion
but you pretend to not notice my pursuit. 

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