Today’s poem

The man with the stethoscope around his neck

Came and spoke to me. ‘I’ve come,’ he said, ‘to take a look,

To see just what it can be. ‘They tell me that it’s swollen and

It’s painful to the touch. I’m also told you’re rather shy

And don’t like doctors much. ‘Well,’ he said. ‘I’m here to help,

I’ve seen it all before. So now please drop your trousers and

Show me where it’s sore.’ Well, he was right, I am quite shy,

But the pain is getting worse The discomfort and this swelling is Something of a curse. So gingerly I lowered my trousers,

My face was burning red. One of those moments in your life

You wish that you were dead. As I stood there so crimson-faced

He studied what he saw. It hadn’t helped that he had said

He’d seen it all before. He poked and pressed and prodded

And wrote a few things down Then he sat back and looked at me

And wore a troubled frown. ‘You’ve got to rest that,’ he then said,

‘Or it could become inflamed I will prescribe something to help,

That should get it tamed. ‘I’ve never seen one so bad before;

Not to that degree.

It’s the worst case I’ve ever seen

Of water on the knee.’

Norman J. Myson, Burnham-on-Crouch, Essex.