SPECIAL POEM FOR OLDER FOLKS

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Ah, the Golden Years!

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

Tell 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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