ODE TO A SUMMER COLD

My nose is running so fluently,

Discharging a tsunami of snot,

Words cannot describe it,

Except for the words that I’ve got.

It’s a deluge of slimy mucus,

A tidal bore of nasal scum,

And there’s gallons more to come.

It is an unprecedented nostril event,

And I find it very strange,

Perhaps I am a victim,

Of internal climate change.

Could it be that my brain is melting,

From the heat of my poetic inspiration,

I’ve had writer’s block for weeks,

So it ends my bardic constipation,

Now it’s all come out in a flood

That I’ve put down on paper;

But when I come back later,

There’ll be a serious issue

Because instead of a majestic masterpiece,

I’ll just have heaps of wet tissue.