A 21st century word
was just a syllable single
until I felt its surge,
setting my nerves a-jingle.
Then it wreaked its singular havoc
through my jittery, jellied knees.
My adrenaline ran wild, amok,
my sanity begged a muffled ‘please’.
No more will I see stress
as an excuse that’s ever so lame,
that steals away its guests;
that’s lazy in all but name.
It contorts and claims its vulnerable scalps.
Oh, stress has a will of its own.
But face-to-face I’ll expose its cruel traps.
Only with calm will I mute that old crone.