Transplant: A poem by Donovan Baldwin

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Just a little humor about doctors and all the transplants they can do. My father had a glass eye. Some time in the future, someone in his predicament might get an eye transplant. I could use a new left knee myself. Don't ever play soccer with people half your age (especially after consuming the better half of a six-pack).

Transplant

Doctor, I need rejuvenating,
And I've been sitting, ruminating,
Over your latest spare parts list.

Just a little investigating,
As I'm sitting out here waiting,
Counting tocks my ticker's missed.

Now, Doc, some things are wearing thin,
And I wish you could fit me in
For an overhaul and installation.

I'm all prepared, so do begin,
To take some out and put some in,
And then we'll have a celebration.

I'll not begrudge your modest fee.
Worth every penny, for a new me.
I can't wait until I've been test driven.

But I've a question don't you see?
If there's parts in there from him and me,
Am I partly dead or partly living?

If everything has been repaired,
My toes re-nailed, my head re-haired,
Where does my part and his part meet?

Doctor, now I'm getting scared,
I guess I'm really not prepared.
Do you think you can replace cold feet?

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Don Baldwin
P. O. Box 380819
Duncanville, TX 75138