a poem by Me and my mom The sphygmomanometer Was wrapped around my arm. It squeezed and tightened up too much And gave me great alarm! My eyes grew large, as to the nurse I cried, “Will this do harm?” She smiled sweetly, said “It’s done,” And took it off my arm. Then everything was fine again, My fears were now dismissed. I heard some footsteps in the hall, Oh, here comes the phlebotomist! Read more »