Note to the Boss

This cold has got me down it seems;
It's interfering with my dreams.
The lack of sleep has made me blue;
I really don't know what to do.

I know that someday I shall be
Released from this foul misery.
Until that blessèd day is here,
I'll keep the box of tissues near.

I toss and turn all night in bed
Until I wish that I were dead.
When daylight comes it's time to rise
And greet the world with bleary eyes.

Or better yet, go back to bed
And try to nurse my aching head.
Tell all who ask, you won't see me
Until this cold is history.

©2016 Michael Fraley

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