I cannot see how
you don’t even cringe,
when the technician
takes out his syringe.
You know he’s going
to stick it in you,
yet you sit and act
like you have no clue.
On the otherhand,
I tend to freak out.
Veins aren’t for poking
or letting blood out.
You are brave, my love;
this I must admit.
Not a wince of pain
did your face submit.
Some day, I’ll be brave
and face the needle,
not squirm all around
and appear feeble.
