Anything But Okay

Routine, you said.

Complicated, it was.

Home the same day, you said.

A week in the horrible hospital, we were.

A band-aid, you said.

Inches of incision, he had.

Not a big deal, you said.

Immense pain, he endured.

Home for Christmas, you promised.

In Heaven six weeks later, he was.

Bounce back, you said he would.

But died, he did.

Everything would be okay, you said.

Anything but, it is.