“Why do we get sick?”

        I am here in my bed, with covers about my head.              And on my feet, oh so sweet, are socks that go from toe to knee.           So, cool I look, as I read my book.            My pyjama bottoms covered with skulls, glow in the dark, and make my puppies bark.      Two shirts I wear,  “yes” I do look square.         To top my look, not on a hook,  is my grungy, cluddly rob.          From head to toe I look a sight,  not one will come and see, this poor old sick me.         Do not come close, for I will boast that I am sick, “poor old sick me.” 

            The flu is near, and very queer, I wash my hands on every chance I can.                 Who passed  this on,   I tiredly yawn,    I think I have a clue.         Was it really YOU!

“WHO ME!!”   

      Have you ever felt this way?     Days go into nights, and still we struggle hard to win the fight.           This old rotten flu, another one, to make you feel blue.       

    So, till I’m better, here I will be, with my socks to my knees,  and my teddy by my side.     

     For all those ill, take a pill, and ” Get Better Really Soon. “

     “Do you feel yucky too?”