A nonchalant mention,
A passing by question,
How do you feel when stressed?
Pondered at it and paused.
Can’t you tell how wired I am
With a trillion thoughts swamped,
Sending silent prayers upward,
While barely moving forward.
A smile and I slowly spoke,
Heart heavy, like being poked,
Palpitations are one too many,
Stress is something I can’t deny.
It isn’t my age then, she replied,
That notion, I gently decried,
In me she laid her trust,
The role, I accept, if I must.
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