Recuperating from the Flu
Do you hear the beat of my phagocyte’s feet
As he marches up and down my bronchi?
He’s a solitary sentry who’ll allow no entry
Of an invader who’ll cause me to die.
“Attack! Attack!” The cry goes out!
As a virus is spied in the road.
“Let’s get him! We got him!”
As they shovel up their load.
Another! And yet another! Is sensed and destroyed!
The phagocyte army is far overjoyed!
For that’s what they live for,
They’re always on call.
They’re ready and waiting,
To go attack enemies
Whether big or real small.