Tick and a freaken' tock,
eyes upon the clock;
the tubes are out, and Ian's fine,
maybe home tomorrow if the doctor will sign;
no more oxygen, his stats are up,
milk for breakfast, sweet potatoes for sup;
he's bored to tears, his mom is too,
I need to clean the house, it looks like a zoo.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
7 comments:
Is there no end to your talents?
Ha! Awesome Tom:)...I agree with Kim.
Hehe--always looking for the fun in things. That's one of the reasons I keep coming back.
Good to hear the tide has turned,
the pee-new-moneeah weakened, spurned.
Breathing easier, now are all
Restless for physician's call.
Don't do too well cleaning, man
She'll think you're competent, and can
Always in this role fulfill,
So kick back, have a brew, and chill.
Good news!
yay!
we are so relieved!
You're a poet!
Did you know it?
sheesh. you and elblog. genius!
so glad all is well
Post a Comment