Thursday, April 08, 2010

Condition

His pleasant murmurs couldn’t erase
the amount of chagrin upon his face,
my litany of current ills
induced a bout of drastic chills
for all there was to aid my case
were stronger pain relieving pills.

Why are we made from hapless clay
condemned to face that fateful day
when faculties begin to fail
and even simple joys turn stale
regardless if we curse or pray
or curl up in a ball and wail?

“There’s nothing more that I can try
but pressure may be lessened by
an injection in the proper spot.”
I smiled and said “Let’s take a shot.”
we snickered so we wouldn’t cry
and leaving I said, “Thanks a lot.”

2 comments:

Dimps said...

Hello Bob,

"Why are we made from hapless clay
condemned to face that fateful day"

"we snickered so we wouldn’t cry
and leaving I said, “Thanks a lot.” "

-- Perfect lines !!

Good work!

Regards,
Dimps

whispersinthewind said...

Sounds like you might be burning the candle at both ends again. :)