A Winter Cold Poem by Phil Soar

A Winter Cold



Her words cut through me as a knife
My loving ever soulful wife
'Get up man, It's just a winter cold'
I'm lying there with snotty nose
Feeling old
Feeling old
She's right I know
But won't admit
I'm not that ill
Well, a little bit
Wallowing in self pity
No time for her knife
My self and righteous loving wife

Wednesday, January 7, 2015
Topic(s) of this poem: winter
COMMENTS OF THE POEM
READ THIS POEM IN OTHER LANGUAGES
Close
Error Success