A wounded soldier

Luke, a boy aged four
Came racing through the door
An ice cream held on high
His eyes upon the sky
And not upon his speedy feet
And a slippery spot upon the concrete

So Luke went flying through the air
Mum and Dad could only stand and stare
He landed hard upon his arm
We thought he hadn’t come to too much harm
How wrong we were in retrospect
But not for a moment did we suspect

Two days passed in silent pain
We thought perhaps he had a sprain
But in the middle of the night
We had a horrible, awful fright
His arm had swelled to twice the size
It was time our diagnosis to revise

So Mum left the cricket at half time
Got her car out of a den of crime
Small boy was stowed inside
With a blanket, a story and a porcupine
We made it to Sunninghill ER
Had to double park the car

We rushed in and sat, and sat, and sat
We looked at this and we looked at that
There were no seats in the waiting room
So we sat in a corner made for a broom
To the sound of babies’ painful cries
Mothers with utter exhaustion in their eyes

Doctor Hutton called our names
He’s helped me out before, with older brother, James
Amidst the chaos he is a veritable angel of grace
Calm and sure and pleasant with a smile upon his face
From the moment that he entered, I knew it was OK
And Luke would climb the monkey bars again one day

Thanks to huge bills I now owe
Luke is confirmed as having a fractured elbow
His arm is hung up in a sling
To teach him that it not wise to take wing
When one is not a little bird
But a small boy with the last word

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