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I cannot understand why everyone else
Is so afraid of being ill- 'tis not so bad:
Not so for the last months to me;
Every hospital visit makes me so glad,
But only for the scary white uniforms,
Still the doctor does give me a smile...
Maybe I too will be one when I grow up,
And cure those with fever and bad bile.
Mommy cries every time I say so, I wonder,
Maybe she too is afraid of them,
I know not, I still have much to ponder-
Like if my friends will recognize me now
With my hair shaved off my shiny scalp,
I think they will, (my eyes have not changed
Their color,) maybe with some help.
I have no homework, though I wish I had.
I am free to play, though it is so tiring.
I like these days, sweeter I cannot remember-
Only if Mommy and Daddy stop crying
All night long! (Yes, I hear them all the time.)
I pray to God, telling Him so before I sleep;
Maybe tonight He will let me dream of
Places where their happiness He does keep.
And tomorrow early morning, I will run
To Daddy and tell him, off will we go,
And picnic thereafter, but of now so tired
I grow, and ready to slip into slumber slow.
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