Nervous Disposition

Somewhere a clock chimes,
You're startled by it,
Shocked by its harshness,
Invading your golden silence,
Your fingers drum a nervous rhythm,
Tap-tappety-tap, tap-tappety-tap,
Over and over again,
Drumming out a message.

Somewhere a child cries,
You grimace at the sound,
Putting up invisible barriers,
The child cries again,
This time you miss it,
You just keep drumming,
Rhythm getting tenser,
Over and over again.

Tap-tap-TAP, tap-tap-TAP,
As if by an overpowering signal,
Your tapping stops,
Instead the silence returns
The worst is over,
But you know it will return,
Stronger and stronger, day by day,
Until one day you'll succumb.

© Robert Ford (circa 1981)
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