After managing to contract some kind of illness for the third time in 2014, I felt more than qualified to write a poem on the hardships and tribulations of the common cold.
***
Your eyes can barely open,
You can sense there’s something off.
That’s when you try to take a breath
And all you do is cough.
You tell yourself it’s just a cold,
You’re barely sniffling.
And you have a lot to do today,
So out of bed you spring.
The fatigue is only mild,
And the fever’s hardly there.
You’ll just go about your day
and be no worse for wear.
But getting dressed is tiring,
And eating is a chore.
Maybe you’re still waking up,
But man your throat is sore...
Out the door you saunter,
There’s no strut in your step.
And something’s lurking in your throat,
That could possibly be strep.
The tasks that lie ahead of you,
May as well be climbing mountains.
Your body aches, your voice is gone,
And your nostrils are like fountains.
Your temperature is wonky,
First you shiver, then you sweat,
Your mind begins to wonder,
How much worse will this plague get?
The taste in your mouth is less than nice.
The phlegm in your throat is mounding.
And why are people yelling?
Don’t they know your head is pounding?
You seek out a comfy sitting spot
To find some peace and quiet,
Then comes the tickle in your throat
And your body starts to riot.
You try to block the burst that’s coming,
Your eyes well up with tears
And then begins the cough attack
That seems to last for years.
Everyone is staring,
Parents lead their kids away.
You hear a woman ask her friend,
“Is she to be OK?”
Your bleary eyes have started leaking,
It looks like you’re going to cry.
So you take your sputtering, coughing self
Away from the public eye.
Thankfully day is over,
Though your chills won’t take a hint.
And when you’re home you take a look...
Your face has a green unnatural tint.
You drag yourself across the floor,
Spent with sickness and with sorrow,
And flop down in your bed at last,
“I’m staying in bed tomorrow.”
