|By: Edna Mae Cilwa||Viewed: 9/24/2018
||Topics/Keywords: #leech #medicine #SpanishHospital||Page Views: 1143|
|A humerous poem by Edna Mae Cilwa.|
No, this poem isn't about a lawyer. In 1970, Mom worked as a guide at the Spanish Hospital in St. Augustine, Florida, a restored building that had once been a hospital for Spanish soldiers and settlers. On display there was a large glass jar containing a bunch of leeches. From that, came this poem.
I didn't think I'd ever miss The leeches that we had All summer on the counter. But now, I'm feeling sad.
They were a conversation piece— Those ugly, horrid, critters— So miserable to care for That they gave us all the jitters.
Folks would view them with disgust, Mutter, "Yuck!" and then Stand and watch the stupid things And come back there again.
We started out with quite a few And lost them day by day, Until, at last, but one was left. Then he, too, passed away.
And now, the Pharmacy seems bare I draw attention to The book, the jars, the pills, the scales, But none of them will do.
I can't expound upon the use Of leeches then or now. All I can do is mention them. It sure falls flat. And how!
Few care today that they are gone Forgotten, that is true. But, somewhere in Leech Heaven, I hope they miss me, too.