Dead Man’s Chest Poem by John F. McCullagh
Dead Man’s Chest
The ugly scar straight down my chest has begun to heal, and the pain is less.
Each week I walk a little more at least back and forth to the corner store.
On hot days I get short of breath and I must be careful to take my rest.
Still, I'm lucky and can’t complain about a scar and a little pain.
I’m back at home with the ones I love best
All thanks to a gift from a dead man’s chest.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/19/2024 11:38:50 AM # 1.0.0.1119
