The Drip Drop Drips (and a Spoon)

The drip drop drips As the treatment begins - Like the call to prayer it is Each time. I notice too, it is the same With others in the room; Some quiet When the drip drop drips begin As we wonder and pray How it's going in there Today, on my mother's birthday (28 years gone now). She is here (And I wish her a happy birthday), With yes, That spoon again in her hand: A crushed St Joseph's Aspirin for Children, Sugar and warm water, Ready to whisper it into me Again To keep me safe, Like she did 74 years ago. She, at my side here Like a call to prayer herself. Her presence alone a treatment. She is a natural here, With spoonfuls enough For the others too.