How is it that my salicylate
knows how not to deviate
from its charted course
of my stomach to my head?
And how is it that this pill
That puts an end to my chill,
Comes from the quaking aspen tree
And the graceful, flowing willow?
And who knew that from the start
Aspirin would also help my heart,
By keeping blood cells going
And me from being dead?
These miracles I appreciate
All from my salicy late.
Still I ponder how it knows,
When I take it, where to go.