They always told me how to stand,
and where to rest my tender neck.
They told me how to guard my hand,
and where to go from step to step.
Mask on, guard up, raise the blade.
Make sure I’m never burned.
Prepare now for the blows we’ll trade.
All lessons are at once unlearned.
The mask is but a subtle thing,
hides my face but frees my sight.
And as our blades ready to sing,
en garde, my love, prepare to fight.
A flash of tender steel
breaks my concentration.
I guard it well, but still
break back to my foundation.
Vicious barbs flicker fast,
I can but defend.
Excusing blows cannot last,
will it never end?
Loving jabs and caring blows,
taste of an older game.
Now blades flash in angry flows,
but the moves are all the same.
she parries my high lane,
and adjusts to my low guard.
Then responds with no refrain,
Like no other time we sparred.
This duel goes through the paces,
like all the fights before.
We are out of saving graces,
we’ve lost what we were fighting for.