Illness

When your not feeling up to snuff,
I'll run out and get your healing stuff.
It doesn't matter if it's half past three,
For I'll do whatever (you'd do the same for me).

And though my head may feel quite weary,
I'll never feel towards you quite leery,
As if you're sick, you'll be quite honest
And to disbelieve that, I'd be admonished.

So, in the car, we go down the street
To the 24-hour store, quite a feat,
And though the eyes are quite tired,
I get you what you need, as is required.

And we return home and skirt the bugs
Who run around like nocturnal thugs,
And you get your cure, and soon, to bed
Where you can rest your body and rest your head.