Personal Doctor

Those pills that I chew,
& the syrups that I take,
Ain’t better than that photo*,
They are false, they are fake,
‘ve been taking them for weeks,
For the doctor’s sake,
But still got the flu,
Got fever, got ache,
I need a doc, that makes no tests,
The one, on beach under sun, who rests,
To feel my pain, my heart, arrests,
Kills with kisses, cures with hugs,
& with smiles on face, beside me nests,
That cure has no better,
None, but a letter,
With the doctor’s sign,
That tells of mine,
The letter nurse lent,
For a permanent appointment,
Saying I need the doc.
Who’s out of stock,
’cause the doc’s so busy,
With letters so rosy,
But it’s not easy,
For me, dear,

& I need badly…

The Personal Doctor…

* That photo was yours.
P.S. You’ve got your PhD, that’s fair enough.

Abstract:- Doctors are gods ( or could be… PhDs…)


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