Someone tossed me a vile summer cold
and unfortunately, I caught it.
“Three days till you’re better”, was the old, tired-out line
and unfortunately, I bought it.
Now eight days have past
and I’m still here in bed.
Kleenex on my night table
Cool cloth on my head.
Trying to read,
the words swim on the page.
Trying to sleep,
my cough starts to rage.
Edward stays faithful -
at my side night and day
Not even a walk in the park after dark
could successfully tempt him away.
Soon ideas and bright colour
will return to my head,
but for now, please excuse me.
I've gone back to bed.
Do send me your favourite remedies for the dreaded common cold.
Anything short of rubbing duck fat on my chest, I just might try.