Caregiver

I remember feeling poorly as a child
And my mother, acting such the perfect host
Told me to lay down and lovingly smiled
Then came back with delicious cinnamon toast

And as I grew, whenever I felt bad
I toasted up a steaming slice or two
And that memory, of feeling loved and glad
Would always be enough to pull me through

Now it seems it’s time for me to be
The perfect host as I retrieve my wife
From where they give her chemotherapy
And then employ my trusty butter knife.