Too Much, But I Will Welcome You Poem by Herbert Nehrlich

She wore a starched and stiff,
turn off in type to real men,
a uniform prescribed as if
they would be happy on a scale from one to ten
with just a five, if that.

No cap at least, like they would wear
on wards, the ones that laid their hands
on thin as well as those who dared be fat
all in the name of altruistic patient care,
no one could know the origin of those demands.

Oh yes, the Lab, it did demand real respect,
all samples went to ground there to be screened,
they'd look in microscopes, they'd measure and dissect
until the clock for lunch or end of dayshift intervened.

I took her home one day and used impatient hands
to rip the fabric of her bosom in a rage,
I think that youth is when no youngster understands
that life can never be a limelight covered stage.

Today, when candles light the ruby red of wine
and hasty hands have given way to gentle touch,
I may not realise the treasure that is mine
but it is clear that I've been given way too much.