Under The Weather
Along the streets, my leaden feet plod:
In my mind, this all feels quite odd.
Usually, when walking, I keep a good pace,
But, at the moment, this is not the case.
When I cough, my chest gives a rattle.
Just to keep going, feels like a battle.
Walking along a road that's all uphill,
Is a real struggle, and takes all of my will.
I seem to have lost my ‘get up and go.'
My pace at the moment is painfully slow.
My nose is all flaky, and has gone red.
Now, when I cough, it hurts my head.
I don't really feel like a lot to eat.
I prefer sitting down to rest my feet.
My soul within, feels quite deflated.
At my slow pace, I feel quite frustrated.
I cough so much that my ribs are sore.
Having a cold has become a real bore.
From me, some folk are now steering clear:
In case of infection, they won't come near.
Chances are that my cough will hang on:
I will be so relieved when it has gone.
My nose keeps running, just like a tap.
My inner strength, my cold has sapped.
Having a cold, I find just so annoying:
With my patience, this cold is toying.
I can't wait to be back to my old self:
Feeling happy, and back to good health.
poem by Angela Wybrow
Added by Poetry Lover
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