From And Don’t Come Back, published in 2021.
Winter Cold
The box of tissues beside the bed
the glass of tepid water
the smell of menthol chest rub
that lingers in the air
the feeble glow of the lamp
the pages of the open book
you hold but do not read.
It is midnight. Propped up on pillows
instead you stare at the TV screen
bleary eyes following a comedy
from thirty years ago. The characters
in perfect health plenty of energy
rat-a-tat sassy one-liners
that you don’t follow. You sneeze.
Reach out. The tissue box
so far away. You sneeze again.
1/23/20
Claudia McGill Writes Poetry, Did You Know That? 
Yup, you nailed my past several days except no vapor rub! Brilliant little poem describing an icky time!
The universal experience of having a cold. In some ways it is nice, a chance to sort of retreat from life, but…there is that feverish bla feeling and of course the incessant sniffing or outright honking blowing your nose 1000 times!
You have captured that heavy, sluggish feeling of having a cold perfectly. One very small sliver of silver lining to this pandemic lark and all the mask-wearing and extra cleaning is that I have not had a cold for two years now. I have crappy sinuses so I still have to deal with that unwelcome nonsense every Winter but thankfully no colds, no stomach bugs, no sickness of any kind.
I hesitate to say it, right now I am knocking on wood, but me too. That part of society, I do not miss.