There’s a cotton wool ball where my head used to be, runny eyes, runny nose and that’s how it goes on a Wednesday in May,
I may take a hot drink
I think that I will with some lemon and honey, I may take a pill but as yet I’m unsure if there’s a cure for this malady, m’ lady will know, she is the remedy for all things that go
My throat’s set afire as the fever gets higher and as the brandy gets lower, I become slower, my eyes and my nose cease to run and I feel that I’m on the road to recovery, then I wake and discover she has tended my aches, taken my pain, changed all the bedsheets and she has done it again, mended the man as only she can.
The cotton wool ball has scored an own goal and I’ve won for a while, so it’s a smile for the day and the way she defends me against anything that attacks me or lays me down low and that’s how things go
on a Wednesday in May.
© 2015, John Smallshaw.