Shoulda Read the Label
Seven decades their union weighed.
Both were ninety and on Medicaid.
When hubby’s eyes saw only shade,
doc gave drops for sight upgrades.
Twice a day, with no mental disarray,
wifey gave his eyes a drops cascade.
On day six, she took drops as bade
from the desk drawer where they laid.
After two drops in both eyes stayed,
hubby closed eyes, then became afraid.
Eyes squeezed shut, he began a tirade,
throwing vile, verbal grenades,
saying something about betrayed.
She begged his eyes to not delay
in seeking an open, healthy display.
“I can’t,” is all hubby would relay.
Giving the drop bottle a quick survey,
wifey was hit with dreadful dismay
and immediately bowed to pray,
“Lord, please send medics straightaway
who know how to end superglue's foul play,
forgive me for my brain that strayed,
allow hubby’s upcoming ninetieth birthday
cause recall of glued eyes to fast decay.”
Copyright © CayCay Jennings | Year Posted 2018
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