Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Aug 2014
The fizz rises, the fizz falls
     pain harkens, fever calls;
along the forehead, and down
shivering arms awaiting the round
  fizz rising and falling.
Froth settles on the top,
     but the cough, the cough remains;
the fizz, soft now yellow,
     not yet, is
bringing any relief.
wordvango
Written by
wordvango
616
   --- and Cayla frazier
Please log in to view and add comments on poems