Day One.
"Take off your shirt, your pant, your brassiere"
I knew, one day, I'd have that to hear,
But I wish the quote
Had a romantic note;
Not a nurse holding out a prisoner's attire.
Day Two.
With the loudest of shrieks and a 'drip' of a start,
Coupled with many an embarrassing part,
Till the White Blood Cells,
Are back; so he tells.
Who he? The doc who told me, "An hour to discharge."
Day Three.
My first solid food,
Ever since I was bed-glued;
Parle-G and chaai;
I think I'll get by.
Day Four.
Home.
Bliss.
"Take off your shirt, your pant, your brassiere"
I knew, one day, I'd have that to hear,
But I wish the quote
Had a romantic note;
Not a nurse holding out a prisoner's attire.
Day Two.
With the loudest of shrieks and a 'drip' of a start,
Coupled with many an embarrassing part,
Till the White Blood Cells,
Are back; so he tells.
Who he? The doc who told me, "An hour to discharge."
Day Three.
My first solid food,
Ever since I was bed-glued;
Parle-G and chaai;
I think I'll get by.
Day Four.
Home.
Bliss.
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