Incandescent, my throat surely glows in the night
Acquiescent, no hope that I'll soon feel all right,
Unexploded, a face full of impending sneeze
Overloaded, I hate playing host to disease
When I think I'm on top of the daily routine,
with the car washed, the bins out, the house fairly clean
(if you don't count that pumpkin from last Hallowe'en),
that's the moment my throat starts to hurt
Then I know that I'm in for some miserable days,
as my body aches while it fights off the malaise
and my nose drips and sniffles at all it surveys,
till I can't tell my main from dessert.
Yes, I know it's a virus, which nothing evicts,
but I hate the disruption a head cold inflicts
and I quail at the gloom that first tickle predicts,
the depression I'd like to avert.
Will it last a few days, or a couple of weeks?
Will my coughs come in cascades and blow out my cheeks?
Can the chemist supply what this sufferer seeks
to propel me halfway to alert?
Then one morning I'll wake from another night's stress
and discover, surprised, that my poor throat hurts less.
I can finally shake off lugubriousness
and embrace life, no longer inert!