Rosacea on my cheeks

In a sudden blush, my cheeks turned red, A hue so vivid and glossy like a tale unsaid, As if brushed by makeup's gentle touch, A rosy glow, it seemed, a bit too much.

At first, a beauty in that pink embrace, A lovely pink tint bedecked my face, Days passed, and it ventured more, No pain, no itch, just that rosy lore.

Slowly, its canvas began to grow, lines did show, near eyes and brow, Scales and patches, an unforeseen plan, An older mask on face on a younger man.

Fear clasped tight, I sought a guide, A kind-hearted dermatologist beside, She found the cause, not a dire fuss, Rosacea was it and not Lupus plexus.

Medicines came, in a blend to heal, Antihistamines, a soothing seal, Topical mix, with a professional grace, Restoring to me my original former face.

Originality, a treasure to behold, Weighs heavier than artificial gold, My cheeks, in their natural bloom, Radiate love, dispelling every gloom.

In life's paths too, a lesson for all to find, In Rosacea's dance, brought fear in mind, Originality, as held high in its purest flow, A joy in simplicity and in gentleness glow.

~ Dr Intaj Malek

Simpleton Yanko

Once in a quaint village nestled amid rolling hills and lush meadows, lived a simpleton named Yanko. He was a man of endless chatter, possessing a penchant for sharing his thoughts on every topic and person that crossed his path. His words, like a ceaseless river, flowed freely, uncaring of their impact.

 

On a serene afternoon, Yanko set out to visit his friend Nanko, who had recently met with an unfortunate accident. As Yanko entered Nanko's humble abode, he greeted his friend with a flurry of words, not pausing to notice Nanko's guest, another villager named Tanko, sitting beside the bed.

 

Yanko, true to his nature, prattled on about everything under the sun. However, his musings took an unexpected turn when he stumbled upon a name—'Ianko.' In his usual fashion, Yanko embarked on a spontaneous monologue about this mysterious Ianko. He spoke of him in a manner that stirred bewilderment in the eyes of Nanko and Tanko, who exchanged surprised glances as Yanko continued, oblivious to their reaction.

 

Unbeknownst to Yanko, his casual ramblings about Ianko, littered with unintentional fabrications and exaggerated anecdotes, began to circulate within the village. The very air seemed to carry his words, and before long, Ianko's reputation was tainted, tarnished by Yanko's reckless tongue.

 

Remarkably, Ianko chose not to confront Yanko about the matter. Instead, he chose the dignified path of silence. Yet, Yanko, despite the unintended repercussions of his words, remained unchanged. He never seemed to grasp the weight of his careless chatter or the consequences it wrought upon others.

 

The village, once a haven of tranquility, found itself caught in the whispers fueled by Yanko's thoughtless banter. And although Ianko silently endured the fallout, Yanko continued his carefree musings, never considering the damage caused by his unfiltered words.

 

For Yanko, the world remained a canvas where words flowed uninhibitedly, often leaving behind unforeseen marks on the lives of those touched by his thoughtless speech. Yet, despite the lessons life presented, Yanko remained steadfast in his ways, forever lost in the endless stream of his own chatter.

~ Dr Intaj Malek