Poem with the Flu

A foul disease

it is, this Flu.

I cough add sdeeze.

Atchoo! Atchoo!

By dose is blocked.

I caddot sbell.

A rose from rocks,

I could dot tell.

Add by headache;

oh, how it pou’ds .

I caddot take

the slightest sou’ds.

I’d like to go outside

idstead

but, sadly, bust reside

id bed.

Yet, linctus like, the bright

sun beams

and has a healing touch,

it seems.

Through window pane, she

nurses me

and makes my heart glow

healthily.