Once upon a late night bleary, while I shivered, weak and weary,
Oversleeping on a couch and furious over my forgotten health,
While I sniffled, nearly napping, suddenly there came a whooping,
As of someone loudly coughing, spewing microbes on my front door.
"'Tis more germs," I muttered, "spewing on my door -
Only this, and not much more."
"Achoo!", repeatedly I exclaimed as the pathogens crept in my door,
And each separate sniffling, hacking coughing cry expelled plague upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished for sanitizer, - antibiotics and those soft little tissues with the lotion inside.
From the germs my body aching - my health lost forever more -
For the rude and rampant microbes whom the devils proclaimed encore-
Germs are here for evermore.
As usual Edgar has cheered me up. Sick always sounds better in poetry.
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