Carol Mitchell-Gears
The unopened news paper rests on the breakfast table.
My eyes are red and stinging, a box of tissues at my side.
My nose is sore from wiping, I never learned to gently dab.
My voice is rough and scratchy, my throat is dry and sore.
I want to go out shopping for family Birthdays, Easter and more.
If I take the medication, it will send me straight to bed.
Please please let it rain, for sure that will clear my head.
Please please let it, Ah-choo rain.