by
Florence Ondré
Oh the ache
Of bones that quake
The stomach grip
The reeling ship
Of balance gone awry
Is that the floor or that the sky?
Woozy and no appetite
Have zero oomph to talk or fight
Ears all stuffed and nose is too
Eyes too teary with each achoo
How could this be
It still is Fall
Warm, not nearly Winter's call
Sunny like a late Spring day
I should be out is what I say
Denial sets anew each morn
When I arise to face the dawn
Thinking ah it's gone away
Within minutes, it's back to stay
Another day with plans all ruined
When will it leave? Just stay tuned!
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment