December 1, 2008
By Hind Oliesh, Al-ain, ZZ

I was bedridden at prime,

My nose full of slime,

And some of a pain in my head

I felt all so cold,

Surrounded by mold,

Just as how it looked on a bread

I put down my mug,

To forcibly tug,

The thick old rug beside me

And held it up right,

To look all so bright,

Just as the way I wish to be

Then he came in,

And covered his chin,

With that cloth white and so pure

He knew I had a bug,

And once he put his lug,

He figured out what was the cure

Then I felt so well,

You can also tell,

That started living in a rhyme

When my nose was pink,

For once I did think,

That I lived on borrowed time

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