Serenity Now

Anxious thoughts, like muscle spasms
held hostage by morning frost in May,
fret, like elevator cables chafing taut
to inappropriate and perilous strain,
worry, like bony weasels gnawing
bald the dew-soaked Savannah,
remained a-hold of me Friday
the thirteenth, as my boss
called me to his office,
and there, with a kind of laid
back composure this side of
Sleepy Hollow, talked with
me about my future
with the company.

A nagging trial tormented me
as he spoke; I anguished in
apprehension each answer,
every rung of company
ladder personally
longed for, the
soar of ambition
projected forthrightly
from a pained face,
yet a bona fide
heart.

An eternity of time coiled into
minutes; I was sweat in surge.
Somehow disquiet held on
with sweaty palms to this
unworldly inquisition.
Beset, my grief
was open woe,
yet back at my desk
I sighed, and with thumbs
up (both mine and his),
my heart knew peace
as I resumed my
duties at Acme
Relaxation
Center.

40 Lines
Writer’s Cramp
5-14-16