‘No problem, ‘ I am assured.
But no, I am not assured at all.
In fact I am more fearful than before.
How often I have heard those words so sure.
The prelude to ghastly unforeseen woes and more.
The problem looms, my trust has already lost it’s bloom.
The Cypriot backs away too fast,
Loudly, procrastinating, not his fault, I think he lies.
”The problem is yours, with you it lies.’
Fury rises from deep within,
I yearn to tear him limb from limb.
His inane excuses babble out of him.
I’m mesmerised, as he himself seems taken in.
I start feeling sorry for him, what am I to do with him?
I reach for the bible and mentally sing a hymn.