For the last few weeks I have been, off and on, grossly, pathetically sick. In fact just about everyone I know has been ill starting just before the holidays and continuing through January. This is my poem about my experience, and I’m sure many of you can chime in with your own ghastly stories. My sympathy.
When I wasn’t looking, when I thought all was well,
The creeping crud got me and put me through hell.
It began with a sniffle, a snorkle, and hack,
Then the next thing I knew I’m flat out in the sack.
My head was pure mucous, and so were my lungs.
Every joint in my body ached sorely and stung.
I slept all day long, but not the night through,
When every half hour I’d run for the loo.
For days without end I was coughing and dripping.
My stomach was sour, my nausea was gripping.
“When will it end?” I cried out in despair.
“I’ll stay forever!” the virus declared.
Thus downhill I tumbled, faster and louder,
looking and feeling like month-old clam chowder.
So I took ibuprofen, decongestants and wine,
I drank chamomile tea and sage by the stein.
And at last, bit by bit, I pulled out of my slump
And killed that bad virus with a kick to its rump.
Now at last I am back and if not yet real swell
I’m here to wish all of you good luck and stay well.