I Have A Cold.

Run those sodden streams, those

rivulets of ooze, to fall beneath the

tingle and the torment, in torrents

no tissue can assuage.

And now...the sweating starts, oh

joy. Just the cough to come,

it waits with baited breath, upon

constriction of the lungs, barking

like an angered hound when

silence drains the hour.

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muneer's picture

medical poem

your case can't be solved

by a poem

I think you need a doctor

good luck

sweetwater's picture

Thankfully, it only lasted a

Thankfully, it only lasted a few days, thank you for commenting :-) Sue.