Flu

By
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





Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

bRealTime banner ad on the left side
Site Feedback