Too many to count in the end, simply, lots
The pox has hit our household
Starting with what seemed like a cold
The boy brought it home from school
Thinking it was ever so cool
He went pale and blazed a fever
Wouldn't eat anything either
Claimed a nest on the front room floor
Groaning every time I walk in the door
We counted his spots
He didn't get lots
A very good boy, hardly scratched at all
One or two potential scars, only small
He bounced in less than three days
A peace descended upon the house for a week
But we knew the outlook was bleak
My little girl with her soft baby skin
Surely she'd get the same as her kin
A spot appeared on her back then her tummy
At first the spotty outlook was sunny
But then her skin became awash with dots
Looking at her filled my stomach with knots
So many there was no skin left to see
Plenty of calamine lotion is the key
As I brush my hands over the niggly bumps
My heart breaks after touching each lump
I'm crying inside as I look at her poor face
This has to have been the very worst case
I wish I could clear it with a mothers touch
Claire Buss is a multi-genre author and poet, completely addicted to cake. Find all her books on Amazon. Join the discussion in her Facebook group Buss's Book Stop.
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