Poem - Poorly

One minute, I'm frolicking in the meadows, 

The next I'm huddled in bed watching YouTube videos.

Sneezing and coughing into a mountain of tissues,

I will have missed so many issues

Of my favourite magazine.

Time seems to warp when I have a cold,

One day from another cannot be told.

"It's time for lunch!" I hear my mum call,

It takes too much energy to get up, so instead I fall

Out of bed.

Being ill is really no fun when I still have homework to do,

Yet I cannot escape - it must not be overdue.

I have exhausted the programmes on the telly,

And I have been lying on my belly

All day long.

The only consolation for being poorly is that everyone at school will have missed you sorely.

(Or so you like to think.)