A Pome a Day for a Year

There is this little loose thread hanging
from the sleeve of my work shirt,
luckily given to me by work so
not something I gotta fork out for,
and it keeps tickling my armpot.

I should pull it, or cut it, or
I do not know, do something,
but the irritating is so swift
that as soon as I start to imagine
I have moved onwards.

Then the tickle happens again,
and the slightness leads me to
question whether I am being overly
sensitive, or whether my armpot
needs care and attention.

Furry little fuzz dips
you would think a loose thread
would not bother them, what with
all the hair, but yeah, just
querying if I need to do something.

But you know how it goes,
I will wander mindfully to other
worlds, where work is part
or entertainment is rife
and the dance prepares anew.