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Saturday

The Organ Recital


The Organ Recital
(A Poetic Drone on the Constant Moan)

He ruminates upon his keep,
This hypochondriac –
His pulse, his diet, lack of sleep,
A panicking attack.

Although his symptoms fall into
A fully normal range,
He’s certain that he’s caught the flu
Or ailments much more strange.

His hypertension and his weight
Bring no cause for alarm.
If we could make this guy abate,
I’d give my own right arm.

When cordial company inquires
And asks him how he is,
He launches off until he tires
To give our friends the biz.

We’ve tried to understand his pains,
And all his stats, so vital.
With sympathy, he more complains,
In his organ recital.

His liver, kidneys, heart and gut
Bring commentary sore.
To listeners, the truth’s clear-cut:
With whining, less is more.
c2008 by Linda Ann Nickerson

(Posted in response to Simply Snickers’ prompt on “cordial” and “company”)

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