Worry --
Beads on my arm
Like a sticky heat--
Uncomfortable beads
Rippling down my forehead,
Roll of my lashes
And burn my eyes
At the rising of the sun.

But I turn away,
Let the orange and yellow
Flood my pupils
Erase my mind
And reset my pulse...

Calm--
Chirped melodies
Drifting through my ears
Tickle my soul
And pull my strings,
Up--
      out of the covers,
Out--
     into the world.