The Worrywart

The worrywart worries not
buried in his book waiting
for the plot to go wrong

Like the groundhog whistler
he hides himself away, his
lamp casts a long shadow

He avoids the light of day
wishes all in his path
would just go away

To hear his chatter bores,
his worry puss and golden
guts galore, but what worries

me is his stagecraft, an act
he doesn’t actually know
anything about shadows,

and when the penultimate
page turns blank he’ll worry:
printer’s error or by design?