My Cold! ! Poem by Ray Feasey

My throat is sore as my eyes lay heavy
It’s hard to breathe as congestion abounds
I feel unwell sometimes hot and then chilled
With head on fire I know I have a ‘cold’

Perhaps some rest will make it pass
One good nights sleep would be all I need
Then morning comes things aren’t improved
Despite long hours sleep did not prevail

Facing hard time learned facts it owns its time
No remedy cures will make it pass
Suffer in silence is what’s required of me
Yet I am a bad patient and will moan anyway!