the real prize

what a terror that this expensive paper
can do no better than remind me of labour
and though i throw no hats or wear no scarves
i can do nothing but pray for a favour

because everyone forgets to remember
that the road that follows is hard to render
and there is no watch that tells the time
of which i will reach some splendour

so if you read my words and my letters
then we cannot afford to tickle life's feathers
i fight for the cost that was paid before and for i
so all i will do now and on is surrender