Patient Poetry

We meet again, as always;

Titans striding face-to-face.

Our battleground of linoleum

Long stained with tears and antiseptic.


Both so weary, bonecrushingly so,

Worn down by the inexorable tide of

Bottles and pills and politics of medicine

When it should be as simple as

Hello, how are you, how can I help you today?


We are not enemies, though at times

I thought you my mortal foe.

Behind the white coat of office–

Always the white coat, though;

What’s with the white coat?–

Is a person, either foolish or wise,

Much like myself.


And so we stride across our battleground,

The worn linoleum cracked with the horror

Scenes of a thousand nightmares gone before,

And I hear the inevitable question cross those lips:

“What am I seeing you for today?”


Did I not just tell your nurse everything five minutes ago?!


A little something I wrote up on my own blog, Honeybee Chickadee, the other day. It’d been rattling around in my head for days, and with the fibro fog I’m surprised it ever came out at all! Hah!!  {Cassandra}


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