A Poem for Senior Citizens
Read 733 Times
Contributed by Doris Smith
A row of bottles on the shelf
Caused me to analyse myself
One yellow pill I have to pop
Goes to my heart so it wonít stop;
A little white one that I take
Goes to my hands so they wonít shake;
The blue ones that I use a lot
Tell me Iím happy when I am not;
The purple pill goes to my brain
And tells me that I have no pain;
The capsules tell me not to wheeze
Or cough or choke or even sneeze;
The red pills, smallest of them all,
Go to my blood, lest I should fall;
The orange ones, so big and bright
Prevent my leg cramps in the night;
Such an array of brilliant pills
Helping to cure all kinds of ills.
But what Iíd really like to know......
Is what tells each one where to go!
Last Modified on Sat 28th Mar 2015 02:37:17