Poem: A Gnawing Concern

A Gnawing Concern

In the garage there are boxes
of glass bowls on high shelves.
They have been there long enough
it should not worry me.  Those shelves
have not moved: the boxes
have been still.  Nothing has crashed,
no shattering, scattering sbards.
It has been fine.  For years,
they have been there,
sotll: I worry.

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