the worry wart...

The topic for yesterday's poem challenge was worry. Well, I've spent a long time teaching myself NOT to worry, so nothing immediately popped into my mind as a subject (I think that's a good thing, but no, I'm not perfect, as shown by the hiccups I got 5 times since last night, the sort triggered by worry, go figure!). Anyway, I finally found something to write about, which is the sort of "why bother" approach to live. It strikes me as funny, but there are people out there who are immobilized by such fear, and that is sad. Now I'm rambling... forgive me. I'll shut up now. Here's the poem...

The Progression

I cannot leave the house today,
for if I do, I might trip
over the welcome mat
and break my foot.
That would require a visit
to the emergency room
and probably a cast,
not to mention a needle
for the I.V., (I’m breaking out
in hives just thinking about it!)
and I won’t make it to work.
The eventual ramification
of my fall
will be the loss of my job,
followed closely by car,
house and sanity.
How much safer to remain
in the pillow-topped kingdom—
warm, settled and moments
from dreamland—than to risk
stepping out the front door.

Call my boss,
tell her I’m sick
with worry.

(c) SDD 4/08