I give to you...
And you gave to me...
A rash, a fever, headache and the Flu...
I told you not to go without a coat...
And now you’ve got a very bad sore throat...
With fever and pain in all your muscles...
Coughing and sniffles, with draining from nostrils...
Tissues scattered all over the floor...
Bottles and pills from the drugstore...
Chicken soup is what I recommend...
But a sandwich also you did command...
And how about some chips and a nice cold brew...
For days I made you a priority...
Your every whim took seniority...
And then it happened, I started to sweat...
Became lethargic, and better yet...
You were over your bout with the Flu...
As I plopped my body onto the bed...
You stated you were going out to get something to eat...
So I could get some well deserved sleep...
As you closed the door, I heard you say...
Call me when you get better, OK ?
And that’s what brings me here today...
Perhaps I should listen closer to what I say...
" You should take better care of yourself ! “
Sarcastic humor this time. ;-) I remember how nicely my wife treated me whenever I got sick. I credited that from the training she got taking care of her first husband (he was a nurse). For many years while single, I experienced the second part of your poem alone in my home, sometimes finding the house a mess with nothing in the refrigerator after a week of the flu. So I really appreciated the treatment I got from my wife, and now my partner of many years. There's nothing like fresh made hot chicken soup for the soul.
One little nitpick. Sinuses drain. Nostrils are only tubes for air intake and drainage.
Yep! I guess the whole world knows how we men become like we're on death row when we come down with the sniffles. Eh . . . Wish I could say how wrong they are to say this, but . . . Eh, again . . . They're RIGHT!
When we men get sick, we turn into big babies. It's the women who tough it out. Very cute write. Loved the rhyming and flow. And ain't that the way it goes.
Using Calgary as a backdrop the author satirizes the self-serving nature of the public as it continues to fatten itself, not only physically, but egotistically as well.
In the Whirlwind is a poetic storm that frees history from the cages of corruption and puts it in the hands of everyday people. Words are weaved into a new fashion statement that has nothing to do with runways but everything to do with projects!
One little nitpick. Sinuses drain. Nostrils are only tubes for air intake and drainage.
Ron
Michael D.