A Sick Day

The world closed in, a heavy, damp blanket,

this cold pinned me down, a weight unkind,

and each tissue I crumpled seemed like a secret

wrapped in layers of sighs I could not unwind.

I sank on the couch, the TV's dull glow,

and thought of the days when I’d laugh without care,

tissues piled high, a mountain of woe,

as if solitude whispered, “You’re better alone there.”

Yet in this stillness, I found an odd grace,

a moment to breathe, to surrender, to yield,

while the chill wrapped around like a lingering trace,

I pondered my battles and dreams left unsealed.