Worrisome

I am awaiting a call from my doctor;
cardiac specialist known far and wide.
On pins and needles with test results pending;
doctor please hurry my wait won’t abide.

Panic attack comes like thunderstorm lightning;
text the results to my Nokia phone.
I hear the rustling of Mother Nature;
waiting assigns me to my Twilight Zone.

(Now I suppose texting is not permitted;
rules are in place and enforcement prevails.
Maybe the voice of Roy Rogers is calling;
call me today and wish me happy trails.)

I have to wait so my thumbs are in fidget;
everything’s filtered through anxiety.
Wait is the harsh whispering of unsettled;
sad is the howl of the hound inside me.

Dangling truly yours from a bridge structure;
I feel strong winds as they weaken my span.
Galloping Gertie fell into the river—
patiently I wait as long as I can.

Storm-stranded tilted uneven in worry;
energy forces a finger to drum.
Doctor may I have the ear of Caduceus?
I think he’d know where I am coming from.

Silent the smart phone in times of molasses;
waiting is inching my way to the moon.
Crossing the desert with sand never-ending;
I am a-fret for the phone to ring soon.

Butterflies flitter in mid-center region;
O how the swirling unsettles me so.
I would appreciate some kind of answer;
it is the right of a patient to know.

Unlike a friend waiting transforms to fiendish;
there is not want to extend a glad hand.
I’m on a cliff with a chasm below me—
telephone soon so I know where I stand.

I take the call through the fret and the fury;
now that I know I applaud with a shout.
Waiting for me is a steroid-fed worry—
that is bad time I can sure do without.


40 Lines
(Rhythm: 11-10-11-10)
Writer’s Cramp
7-30-19