Tuesday, October 18, 2011

Metabolism - a poem

This poem is hanging up in our cardiac rehab office. I liked it, especially the last two lines, because it really is all about the tools we have been given and what we intend to do with them!

My metabolism fell asleep.
My system didn't know what to eat.
My body grew, my clothing shrunk,
My mind was in an awful funk.
I searched for answers off and on.
This is what I finally found...
A doctor wise beyond his years,
A nutritionist to allay my fears, and guide
my progress through the years.
They provided the tools for a smaller me,
And this is what I intend to be.
W. Vigneau