Under the radar I fly
but if you don't see me, I cry.
Undetected, I yearn
for a spotlight that burns
like your confident flames, dizzy high.
Down here is a dank solitude
that may breed a malodorous mood.
But up there on stage
your fiery quips rage
with a satisfied, ripe attitude.
So away in the night I take flight
to the shelter of pure, lone respite.
And compare me no more
with your largesse so sure
in a place unalarmed by stage fright.
By Justine Reilly, © 2010