Sta.sh
You know, I'm always told,
To beware of the cold!
My mother without any hitch,
New sweaters she would stitch.
She'd give me a cup of brew,
And warn me about the flu.
"Don't worry", I'd say
But still get the sniffles, the next day.
She would wrap my scarf tight,
And warm my blanket at night.
She gives me my ear muffs,
And warns me with a threatening huff.
I'd impatiently roll my eyes,
Even though she was wise...
I carelessly chose to ignore
And alas, now my throat is sore.
I idly hear the clock tick,
As I lay in bed, sick.
She brings in some soup,
Scolding in a never-ending loop.
"You should've been careful!"
She tells me I'm quite the handful...
She sighs and puts her hand on my head.
She then tells me to go to bed.
And just as she is about to go,
She mouths, "I told you so".
And shuts the door tight,
Without even saying goodnight.
All through the night I wheeze,
Cough, sniff, sweat and sneeze.
That's why, I've always been told:
To beware of the cold.
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Hope you get better soon~
I loved this by the way; you should write poetry more often
Mine always ends up really depressed LOLHow 'bout you, sweetie?
Aaaa, thank you!
Okay~
get better soon dearie
I MEAN, EVER SINCE I WAS A CHILD I WAS ALWAYS IN THE HOSPITAL
Aaa im better now, sweetie.
Don't worry, a bit of medicine *coughDrugs!cough*, a bit of sleep, and you'll be up and at 'em in no time