This morning brings another count
of ailments that have attacked me,
as viral matter drifts unseen in the air
impossible to keep track of.

The mirror shows my tired face,
so pale and paper-thin,
while symptoms wear my body down
and make my poor head spin.

I am too weary now to catalogue
each ache, each pain, each sigh;
The simple truth is all that's left
and I'm barely getting by.

This not-so-wonderful existence
drags its feet along,
my routine is all out of tune,
as I snuffle a half-forgotten song.

I'm death warmed over, so they say
though warmth feels far away,
as I shiver through the unbearable hours
of yet another long and miserable day.

©️Lizzie Bevis