David Smith | + Follow Poet |
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Five years on from this

Five years on from writing this,
My doctor I could kiss,
As my children do not, me have to miss,
And my grandson has given five years of bliss,
We now have identical twin grandsons for me to bless.

My yard is less,
Of a mess,
With my health better than before the cancer almost found success,
In handing death my address,
And to the cat my crimes I can still confess,
My poems continue to caress,
Helping others to progress,
And grandads slippers have avoided a bin toss.

A win in lotto may yet to me come across,
The pension is still free of moss,
Of the remote control I am still the boss,
When others are not at a loss,
And my good fortune every day I bless.

With crumbs I still make a mess,
And of chocolate I still seek more not less,
A smile from a lady still excites I confess, 
I could kiss my doctor for all of this,
And the opportunity to seize yet another day,
Before death comes my way.



I Owe My Doctor Big Time
Given he choice between winning the lottery,
And changing my Doctor,
I'd stick with the Doctor I have.

There is only one other I have more faith in than my Doctor,
To get to the bottom of any health issues I may have.
He always orders the right tests,
And goes easy on the pills. 

All the money in the world,
Is no good if your Doctor is a pill pusher,
With the belief that being overwhelmed,
Is the same as being depressed.

I shudder to think where my health would be at,
If my Doctor was not my Doctor.

I am halfway through my Chemotherapy, 
Mainly due to my Doctor,
Who went to bat for me, to overturn a refusal,
On the request for a colonoscopy,
Without which I would not have even started Chemotherapy.
Copyright © David Smith | Year Posted 2019

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