I stacked them up as tall as the sky
Which may sound like very high
Though really it was just a lie,
Probably because I was small in size.
My mother brought them home each month,
‘Til I could stack them up no more,
And as it accumulated to its own galore,
“Mother,” I begged, “no more… no more.”
I remember still its vivid colors,
Disgustingly yellow to my own dismay,
Attached on top was a white cap to stay,
Inside were capsules for my mother each day.
See, mother was very ill.
Those “jars” I’ve regarded as a toy,
Never really gave her any joy,
Now that I know what they were meant for,
I wish for them no more… no more.