I worried so when I was young, I built
my frets to threats against all inner peace.
While other Jews were specialists at guilt,
I nurtured my anxiety’s increase.
Now doubtless I’ve surpassed my mother’s skill,
envisioning the ways things can go wrong –
I’ve agitated often with a will
that wouldn’t quit and couldn’t be more strong.

I tried to reason worry gone. I knew
my dreams contained no omens and my fears
were realized almost never. Yet I grew
no less a nervous wreck by adding years.
But that was yesterday; old age forbids
appropriating worry from my kids.