Hope
Why did I give my hope free rein?
I knew that I could ne'er ride safe
Upon a dream, and yet I've none but me to blame.
Unseated oft, I've still called back the beast;
Stroked still the heaving warmth of flanks
Which promised much yet, sweating, slipped me off.
And expectation, which I trussed up with wish,
Oft-times responded 'will ye, nill ye.
Nay is all the answer to ambition's spur'.
The horsebox of Pandora holds a cur.
(The Anchor, Bankside, April 1997)
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