Anxiety: That Pest

The Pest

Worry is not gracious or a genial companion.

It’s an ill-behaved scoundrel,

disorderly and unwise.

 

It comes in dreams, uninvited,

leaves me stuck in one place,

an insect on flypaper,

keeps me slow and befuddled,

with an untidy mind.

 

Worry strides into my house,

rearranges the furniture,

puts the couch in the bathroom,

the bed in the kitchen,

creates a helter-skelter maze,

with tilting floors.

I’ve tried all the cures,

pills and prayers,

shrinks and yoga.

But still every morning,

worry greets me early,

with flypaper in hand.

 

I might as well give in,

Croon that old blues song.

C’mon in, worry, I say.

C’mon in and sit down.