Everyone in my house had the Christmas Flu last year.
It’s cold outside, minus three,
but my temperature’s busting the mercury,
flu at Christmas, what’s the chances,
no mistletoe and no dances.
Family is on the way, turn the car around,
feel like I’m six feet underground.
I’d love to see you,
but I’d have to leave you.
Duvet and hot water bottle,
Brufen and paracetamol,
so many things I’m going to miss,
I’ll be in bed till the summer hits.
© Paul Andrew Sneddon
