Horace, Ode 23

Vitas inuleo me similis, Chloe...

I am like something soft in the shadows
so afraid of what walks in the light
I've let it go to my head, so now
the air alone, much less a step, paralyzes me.

It could be new life, could be hope.
Could be a new species of snake just born,
A snake with tiny spangle hands and blonde hair.
That's not my legs shaking, it's my blood.

I still can't see it, but it's saying something.

Why do you think the worst of me?
It's not like me to chase you in the grass.
I seem to have no choice but to come out.