Head Cold

I caught the cold my grandkids tossed around.
There’s no escaping 7 months or 4
years old – we saw, we hugged and kissed and clowned,
in chair and couch and rolling on the floor.
A little ill, I’m willing still for more.
Although since Covid I’ve been only well,
affection’s worth congestion for a spell.

(Rhyme Royal)

This entry was posted in Coronaverse, Family, Health, Poetry and tagged , . Bookmark the permalink.

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