You, skating

I noticed you skittering along the cold ice, impersonally,
Trying to find your own space to hide in
Even though saturated in the crowd, whirling around.
Your sad eyes tell the story that your sagging head confirms.
I asked if you should stay on the carpet, you declined
With all the fury of a Joan of Arc or doomed sailor
Facing the angry side of a perfect storm.

You know you are unnatural and awkward on skates,
You should have avoided the ice.
We could have stayed home, now I will have to nurse your pride.
Your stubbornness in the face of failure is beautiful though,
And you have such a vulpine way of being contrary to sense.