En-garde

"En-garde!" "I am not skilled," I plead. Must we vie for the kill? I'll let you win, you know." On a level piste, we duel I see your vulnerable points but I do not dare to attack "Pret!" Still you want me to fight An unfair bout "Allez!" You weild your saber With your other arm bent behind you Advancing towards my épée I parry and retreat My vulnerabilities in sight clearly defined before you Because I've come to the field bare A fault of my own Whist your shield is an impregnable fortress I parry-riposte to your conspicuous charges "Touche," you announce. I point my épée at your visage Worn by the vicious cycle Serving to remind me of my frailties As if I dwell in oblivion While you feign composure For a moment I dance to your tune Through a sleight of your hand You regain priority Provoking the parry And forcing me to defend my heart Alas, a direct dégagé! A sharp grin flashes upon your blade. I dance alone now. And dare I say that I enjoy it more. - Jomur I.