A bleedin' poem...
In my house lives tourniquets, used every single day,
In my house lives needles, used to allay.
In my house lives ice packs, for swollen joints and bumps from play,
In my house lives the children i am thankful for each day.
My house hears laughter, giggles and screams,
My house sees frustrated moments clear,
My house sees healing, love and peace,
My house sees bleeding joints cease.
My house sees tears fall from mothers eyes,
and counts small miracles as faith doth rise.
My house is a home to a family,
and sees the things you do not see.