Found Poetry: Hypochondriac

The moral of the story is: always keep your old notebooks! Just the other day, I came across this little fragment of poetry in an old notebook. Always good to have some material to work on… and so appropriate on a day when my older son is home with a fever. And no, he is not the hypochondriac in this story!

You fear meningitis
with each stiffening joint.
You understand colitis
at its intricate extreme.
Tachycardia is no stranger
to your medicated bliss
and doctors are your allies
when they prescribe and echo
every fear and twinge.
Advice you dispense freely
alongside cups of tea
with lashings of lemon and honey
to soothe those constricted throats.
So prudent and cautious,
you inch your way forward
to the same finishing line…

Cautious

pills-bottles-photoYou fear meningitis with each stiffening joint.

You understand colitis at its intricate extreme.

Tachycardia is no stranger to your medicated bliss,

doctors are your allies, your mirrors and your envy.

Advice you dispense freely, with countless cups of tea,

lashings of lemon and honey to soothe throats.

So prudent, so careful

you inch your way across

the very same finishing line

that others flash on by.