FLU SEASON

Boxes of tissues
sitting there on
the kitchen table
as though proud

It is their season
and they are waiting
for the crowd to arrive
The wait won’t be long

People walk by
with smile or sneeze
then make way for those
with cough or wheeze

Tissues are plucked
Some with creams infused
so they won’t irritate
tender skin while being used

Sick and tired
nothing matters now
We try to heal, but
we don’t know how

Hospital bound, then
hospital gown
IV infusion
sad faced clown

We try to rest
no illusion
Slowly we mend
end the delusion

It is over, sort of
But we are not in clover
Hey, grab those tissues
Please pass them over

Stanski
January 2, 2020^