I wrote this poem back in my hospital days, for the OR manager at the time, who had been lamenting to me about her inability to find a comfortable pair of scrubs.

Like the good, responsible employee that I am, I memorialized her complaints in rhyme.

Did I mention I don’t do boring well?

Ode to Scrubs (A poem for Heather)

***

Oh Scrubs of Blue!

Once green, it’s true

Back when I was new

Too many years ago

***

You keep me guessing

What size for dressing

The variations are stressing!

The surprises ever grow.

***

You’re short when I’m tall,

Wide when I’m small

(and skinny after the potluck where I’ve eaten it all)

And can I just say the wrists of your jackets are quite constricting, which is all wrong!

***

But love you I do

My blueberry you

My Smurfette in blue

When I have to put my real pants back on.