Old Timers

In today’s world, at least here in America, we have become a bunch of pill-poppers. It seems that for any ache or illness you have, there is a pill. They come in all colors and shapes.

As we become chronically challenged, age, the need for pain pills seems to increase. If we add vitamin pills to the list of pain and medical pills, the situation becomes humorous.

Today’s poem came to me in an e-mail with no author credit given. It describes the situation very well. It tickled my humor button and I felt my readers might enjoy. The photo of an anonymous pill-popping gentleman was found on the internet.

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A row of bottles on my shelf

Caused 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

Tells 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, very 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!

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STUFF:

On the humorous side: