Back to youth

                     A tribute to Maestro Doctors

At eighty-five, I feel so young,
Like sportsmen ready to be sprung!
Despite my belly aches and pains,
My youthful spirit still remains.

But then my sciatic nerve took aim,
And sent me waves of dreadful pain.
I realized my dreams must wait;
It’s time to act, before it's late.

I had to wake up, face the truth.
And seek a doc  restore my youth.
Someone suggested Doc Williams to me,
Perhaps the right man, I thought him to be.

I had some debts. I must confess,
And feared the cost, I must suggest,
But, thank the Lord, I took the chance,
And gave me hope another dance.

Some people warned me, “Just you wait!”
You’ll see what happens—don’t tempt fate!”
But I just laughed and joked with cheer:
“I’ll have Happydural—never fear!”
And then, as if sent it from above,
Maestro doctor came with care and love,
With skillful hands, and wisdom’s light
He helped me see the world more bright.

But this poem is not for one alone,
Not just for seeds of hope he’s sown.
It’s for all doctors, everywhere,
Who hill our pain with skill and care.

To those who help us rise again,
Who bring back smiles and ease pain;
Who help us feel despite our age,
That life still offers a brand-new page.

So here’s to  doctors, one and all,
Who help us rise each time we fall!
Who gave us hope, you help us see
How young at heart we still can be.

For  age is counted year by year,
but youth is what we hold most dear.