I feel, not see, the cards I tightly hold. I dread to read my fortune in my hand. I pick up what I'm dealt. I've not been told the rules as yet. Few games I understand. If poker I should learn to bluff, I fear. If gin I'll have to watch what I discard. If bridge what suit is trump, what cards held here have points, my partner's bid I must regard. And love's a game with many sets of rules. Some play all night. Some fold or cheat or stall. The ones who gamble as they play are fools. I dread to lose, to win, to play. I dare to peek. I read my fate. The English call it "Patience." Here we call it "Solitaire."