The doctor sighed and looked askance.
What symptoms had he found?
The patient awaited the diagnosis
And his heart began to pound.

"A dose of poetry each day,
Will help you find your way.
A verse or two is good for you
That's as much as I can say."

"But I need pills. I'm eighty two
I'm feeling sick and old
I've never heard a doctor say
Poetry's good for you."

"You'd be surprised. Don't count it out
Refresh your mind and soul.
Your body's gone, your liver's shot
You've really not much time."

"You call yourself a doctor?
I think you're just a quack.
I paid you good money
But now I want it back."

"It's as you please," the doctor said,
"All my patients die
But a little dose of poetry
Helps the time go by."