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Jenga
November 22, 2016
An unwavering statue stands,
I begin to conceive a plan
to keep this tower standing,
preventing it from landing.
The structure stays stable
as more blocks I am able
to remove from its core.
But how many more?
My hand quakes,
the tower shakes,
the end is near
my giant fear
Time spent,
Tower bent
Backwards.
Disaster.
© Sarah M., Blairsville, PA
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There are times where I am trying to juggle too many commitments at once, and this poem uses the game of Jenga as a metaphor for that feeling.