What Indisposition? by Mary Casolin
Like a tonic
You are my doctor
To heal
The wounds of life's neglect
Your eyes dispense
The soothing pharmacon
Your hands' caress
Apply the therapy
Which
Feed my soul
Nurture my mind
Cure my flesh.
Your perception does not halt in silence
A spur to my own desire
You affirm my wish
With speechless admission of reciprocated affection
Its recognition
The ultimate unction of mutual acceptance.
To inflict the world
With our infection
Becomes the prescription
To excise its affliction.
Ooow look! Mary is writing poems that don't rhyme! Who said old dogs can't turn new tricks!! Good on you Mary.
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