(A poem for my poorly nephew)

Tonsillitis is not very nice,
In fact, Uncle Carl’s had it once or twice:

It hurt my throat and I couldn’t really eat,
And I felt so tired, from my head to my feet.

I cried and moaned and hugged my mummy,
And wished for crisps and sweets in my tummy.

Although all I could do was eat boring soup,
And stay inside like a chicken in a coop.

I kept on feeling sorry for myself,
You see, I’m not very good when I’m in bad health.

But a little bird tells me, my ace nephew,
That tonsillitis has not beaten you.

I hear you’ve been as strong as a bear,
Sat on the sofa in your underwear.

Yes you’ve been ill but moaned you have not,
What a little hero your mum and dad have got.

So when I’m next sick
And there’s no get well soon instruction manual,
I’ll just try my best
To be as brave as Daniel.

© Carl Burkitt 2013