[Editor’s Note: This is the 14th poem in a series from “Body Parts,” recently published in book form by Dr. Janet Hoult. For a copy of her collection of poetry about aging, see her email address below.]
The Pills
With apologies to Edgar Allen Poe
Oh the
pills, pills, pills
All the never ending pills
Ten at breakfast, two at lunch,
At dinnertime another bunch.
Always counting to make sure
We don’t miss one that might cure
Any ailment that we have.
Any way that we can salve
Consciences that tell the truth
‘Cause when we were callow youth
We so often told our mother
We would never ever take another
Pill, pill, pill, pill.
Now we that we have passed our prime
And we spend a lot of time
Taking
pills, pills, pills, pills.
With our hands that get so shaky
Wondering if we’ve become flaky
As we try to drink our water
Knowing that’s the way we oughter
Hoping there will be no spills
As we take our
pills, pills, pills, pills.
Ms. Hoult, who lives in Carlson Park with her husband Charlie, may be contacted at HOULTight@aol.com
