My cold is unabated though
To sleep it off I’ve tried,
Through this whole morning didn’t go
For any time outside;
The cats thought this was marvellous
And cuddled up with me
Though one might think, inside the house
They wouldn’t want to be.
Outside it looked superb indeed:
A lovely cloudless sky;
But what in that one failed to read —
Till sampled bye and bye —
Was chills straight from Antarctic wastes
To make one want to cry
Till in hot bath one’s body bastes,
Then hastily rubs dry.
Although I braved conditions
To go pruning for a while
Would hardly raise a smile,
And I was glad to be right back
Inside, out of that chill,
Of any warmth outside, the lack,
Could really make one ill.
But I was that, already,
And so I said, ‘So what!’
But my thinking was unsteady —
Old-Moania I’ve now got!
No, not really, but much longer
And it might quite well have been
For chill breeze was growing stronger,
And my cough was quite obscene.
Now at crack of dawn we’re rising;
Netball matches on the slate;
After that is Swim School prizing —
Early bed, we have a date!