'do not worry about a thing', my mother used to say,
of this she would remind me of, day by day by day;
'do not worry about a thing', my father warned me so,
''cause if you do, and all is well, you beget naught but woe'.
i did not worry about lunch money, not when i had no pence,
i worried not of jeering friends, whose words - they made no sense;
nary did i worry much, when they laughed at blondes and blacks,
or when i sat on wooden chairs, but greeted with thumb-tacks.
again, i did not worry 'bove my ankles hung my pants,
and when they made fun of my love for maths, or silly rants;
i did not worry when i could not kick a ball by posts,
and never did i feel my glasses were too thick for most.
and then came times when social status was measured by laughs and smiles,
i did not worry, in the least, from those i wandered yards and miles;
like children, still, it was not fair, nor fair was i - true story,
no 'neither' for 'nor', you say (that's true) but of this i don't worry.
so grew apart and gravitate, to those who worry not,
and rejoice with the crowd that sees right through the fateful lot;
then move away and sulk alone, with ones who run but tarry,
and still be in a little lot, who wary but don't worry.
and tell yourself with every night you sleepless in bed lie,
worry not of missed cupcakes, and strudels and peach pie;
don't worry for a haughty girl, who sees but is so blind,
and shun your monetary woes, of this you must not mind.
i still remember, way back when, my mother used to say,
'do not worry about a thing' - this gets me through the day;
though now she thinks that i am all and but a sorry sod,
in faith we trust, and misbelieve that all is planned by God.
and do not know what to say to those who ask - for this i'm sorry,
but all i have to tell myself is *sigh* i should not worry.