It’s all pretence, I see, my Dear
This facade that you live so well,
Your look, your walk,  the very talk
Convinces most, but I can tell,
That just beneath your garlanding
There lives a soul so insecure,
So nervous in a measured way,
That  every second... you perform
To structure a collapsing day.

Softly and with gentle touch
I kiss your anxious, fevered brow,
Stroke the tightness in your neck
Reassure that you know now,
Your secret is secure with me.
I step aside and beam to you
My silent, warm applause, my Dear
For your command performance
Holds at bay this constant fear.

Marshalg
In quiet admiration.
11 May 2011