A Special Poem For Olderfolks

A Special Poem For Older Folks A row of bottles on my shelf cause me to analyze myself. One yellow pill, I have to pop goes to my heart so it won't stop. A little white one that I take goes to my hands so they won't shake. The blue ones that I use a lot tell me I'm happy when I'm not. The purple pill goes to my brain and tells me that I have no pain. The capsules tell me not to wheeze or cough or choke or even sneeze. The red ones, smallest of them all, go to my blood, so I won't fall. The orange ones, big and bright prevent my leg cramps in the night. Such an array of brilliant pills helping to cure all kinds of ills but what I'd really like to know... Is what tells each one where to go!