My blank refusal even to compete
Was not a clever ploy: I couldn't meet
The high, exacting standards you require
And couldn't stand to profit as a liar.
'Twas agony to sit and watch the race
From in the grandstand, covering my face
For fear of recognition as a spy,
Or retribution, being seen to cry.
I would not interfere: I was afraid.
And anyway, the progress I had made
By studying the way you ran your world
Had almost drained the pool in which I swirled.
It's taken all my strength to cheer you on.
Try not to be too glad to find I've gone.