Touch me and you’ll cry.
Your eyes will not be dry.
I’m sore and raw.
Keep doing that and blood you will draw.
Your head hurts?
Awe! Now you’re on high alert.
The weather is changing.
Temps went from -5 to 60 in 7 days – ranging.
Think your eye is about to pop out.
Touch me, we’ll see what that’s about.
Dribble, dribble. Snort, snort.
Rub me. There will be no need to read my report.
Proof is all over your face.
Leave me alone. Give me space,
or sav, even nasal spray.
Come on, I’ll make your day.
Don’t you have mucus relief in your bag?
No. Oh well, I’ll just continue to nag.
Touch me. I dare you.
I’ll continue to run; make you blue.
What? No soft facial tissue.
All you can find is a paper towel. Just compound the issue.
I’ll hurt you; well, who knows how long.
This season of pain will never be gone.
Poetry & More 