To my wife Ann
Without whom little would be possible.
***
I’ve had heart surgery,
Mystical metallurgy.
What worked not before,
Checks in now, as by law.
Though explained
By those trained
It has remained
Deep within the core
A magical mystery tour.
***
Humpty Dumpty had a heart
That often fell apart.
All the king’s horses
Sated by eleven courses
Failed again and again
To tick and tock as would Big Ben
Or the digitals at Broward Gen.
***
At some point during my hospital stay
bin Laden went away.
Sent to the deep
By Seals Six without weep.
Away to the deep.
Away to the deep.
***
My surgery, to my perplex
Was somewhat complex
Along came pain
As ceaseless chain.
***
Hospital rooms are bare,
Here and there a chair.
A visitor to see
And bring memory.
***
Some nurses are fair
Others minus care.
Some few without clueth
Terrible, terrible truth.
***
I am a prisoner to my condition
Blood taken, pressure in state of rendition.
Breakfast, lunch and dinner
I peer under plate; declaim loser, winner.
There is always the pain,
As mocks the rain in Spain.
***
I recall Stevenson, his wondrous Pirate’s curses
Within “A Child’s Garden of Verses.”
Ill was I as lad seeing castle moats
Carts to the manor born; trains, planes and boats.
But that was Yesterday.
Now is The World of May.
***
I have been to Broward General
My body drenched in lance ephemeral
It is done. It is done.
It is done. It is done.
***
Home are we from a personal war.
Not Iraq, not Libya, nor “charge” to the fore.
Together with Ann, tests to bear
A heart, almost new, to show and wear.
God be with you and thanks many.
God be with you and thanks many.
The visitor to Broward General
http://wordpress.warrenlanger.com
Still Liberal at 82
Still Liberal at 83
PS: Needless do I say; poet not I.
Still liberal at 84 
You must be logged in to post a comment.