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.

© sweetwater 2023
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Dear Sue, you have described succintly and precisely the symptoms of a seasonal malady which I, in common with millions of others, had to endure this winter. I can offer no remedy but my sympathy.
Best, Luigi. x


Poor auld sausage. A hot toddy for you, me lass. Take care now. Enjoyed your poem, but hope it hasn’t passed on the dreaded lurgy to me.


From such a depression comes this excellent piece. We all know this one Sue, you told it well.
Mike XxX

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