NOTE: This poem portrays my first experience of donating blood a week back. Though it was an emergency but I've decided to do it periodically, on will. For those of you reading this who have donated blood in the past will relate quickly and for those who haven't, I would really urge you to do so. A lot of blood is destroyed in the spleen so donating some of it would do no harm but good to you, you will feel morally all justified like never before and to the one receiving it, it's life for him/her.
I gave a part of me,
to you,
when you were in a trench, falling,
in the hands of doom, gave me a calling,
to get up and do something, feeling something appalling,
though I never saw and thought of you,
but somewhere I knew you lay sprawling,
there hoping and waiting,
to strengthen your flow of vitality,
there waiting and hoping,
this not to be the end of your mortality.
As I walked down to the hospital with your kin,
and gave up my life's pint,
without you having any hint,
and now you're thankful for the events that didn't,
happen and I'm grateful, feeling a bit dizzy having apple juice and mint,
grateful that God chose me for this noble stint.
