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.