I’ve Never Met Poor Henry
but this morning, a beautiful cool morning,
I went for a walk around the neighborhood
and there on the sidewalk, on North Elm,
was a pile of papers, white 8 ½ by 11
stapled in the corner, fresh and clean.
Of course, I had to pick it up
and right away I knew what it was.
It seems poor Henry had been
to the Emergency Room late last night.
I really didn’t mean to snoop
but there right on the front page
it said he went in with chest pains.
His blood pressure was 140/90.
They prescribed steroids and referred him
to an Ear, Nose and Throat specialist.
So what was I supposed to do?
If you know me, you know I’m the kind
who not only takes my shopping cart
to the corral in the Walmart parking lot
but then tries to straighten up all the other carts.
So there I was on North Elm
right across from the hospital
and I knew what I had to do.
It’s all I could do for poor Henry.
2 thoughts on "I’ve Never Met Poor Henry"
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I love how I get to know both you and Henry in this poem.
I like how you describe yourself in second to last stanza. Like the mystery of who is this Henry ?!