It’s finals, and finals go tissue-in-hand with colds. In the spirit of last year’s post, I present an ode to those brave defenders who keep us healthy in this cold, cold weather:
Sonnet #1: To My Leukocytes
A monarch besieged, I toss in my bed
While through the castle they spread the alarm.
You stir in your barracks and lift your head,
Rise and seize proteins that serve you as arm.
You hasten through blood-soaked halls to the fight
And seek the enemy where he does lie
in my cells to battle him through the night,
Engulfing the foe, you kill and you die.
In the morning I rise to your victory
But I cannot toast you with a parade,
Award a medal for your bravery,
Or even knight you for your aid.
We shall never meet, for you are in me
I can only reward you with vitamin C.