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.