(A Work in Progress)
O, my little feeding tube,
My precious link to life.
How I love your wayward ways,
(Put something here that rhymes with “ife.”)
O, tube of glory, chute of food,
Ensure and Boost and Cokey flow,
Whatever would I do without you?
Obama’s got a dog named Bo.**
Your quirks, your clogs, your spills and drips,
Your slimey goodness stains the rug.
Pretty as a bullet hole,
A second belly button ... ugg!
A gourmet treat three times a day,
Which taste buds never know,
Pick one: white or brown or pink,
The flavors really blow.
But still I hug you to my tummy,
Stroke your clamps and nozzles,
You dangle from my abdomen
Like a ... (Quick, what rhymes with "ozzles"?).
** OK ... you write something better. Cheesh. Everyone’s a critic.