My mother told me of an "asphidity" bag,
It was s'pose to keep bad colds away
If worn around your neck.


But I doubt if asphidity did the trick,
Probably the smell repelled the sick
And protected you from anything.


One son swears by echinacea,
Thinks then a cold can never getcha,
And it worked as long as he stayed away from ya.


As for me I think if you believe in whatever
At least for a while you won't get a fever,
‘Til you find you got the placebo.


One thing my mother got dead to rights,
Was lemon juice, whiskey, and an aspirin at night.
No pain, sweet sleep, with that I won't fight.


Meantime, I'll just try all those teas,
Gives an excuse to eat a cookie, please.
An interval of great delight.

 

© By Norma (Twi1ite@sbcglobal.net)


 






Watch these pages for more poems by Norma.
In the meantime, click the links below for
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The Song Of The Butterfly

Afterglow

A Teacher's Farewell

A Camp in the Woods

An Evening In Maine

Tadpole, Tadpole

Garden Flowers

This River

Tiger, Tiger


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