Drip (Wreath Sonnet) Poem by Gert Strydom

A pipe is pinned into the body
in a melody of drops from a sack
life is black, like an unknown rhapsody
soldiers embody a secret attack
turn back infection dropp by tiny drop
to stop pain, juices flow into the vein,
resistance turns life back to its top
tiny things hop to simply help restrain

fighting hard with the right antibiotics
doing some antics to claim victory
and transitory with some grand dynamics
the tactics work without any setback
you feel slack want to be in the tropics
with strange physics the illness is history.