Thursday, September 14, 2006

Ode to My Favorite Body, Now Beseiged

My Love, whose days are now so dark,
Whose body is laid low by plague,
I mourn anew your future stark
Of raw, red nose and shivers vague.

One moment to next you know not which
Will fever decide to depart or abide?
Within you strong concoctions pitch
In hopes of stemming microbial tide.

In vain now do you blow your nose,
Congestion's armies are so vast,
But soldier on against the blows
Of the virus onslaught's mighty blast.

Oh heaven forfend a lengthy conclusion
Let this pass soon to seem mere illusion.

Poor Hubster's a sicky, and blogging makes for bad nursing back to health. Let's just hope I don't get rewarded for my trouble by coming down with the same ague. (Okay, so I just wanted to use that word and couldn't work it into the crappy poem, so what?)


Mair said...

Oh no!!! I warned you!!! Tell K I'm so sorry and I hope he feels better very very soon.

Don Quixote said...

Wear a mask and boil EVERYTHING he touches!