Poetry: Cold isn’t funny

Cold

Yesterday was hot,

The day before yesterday was hot,

Today morning was different,

When the house I left,

I ignored my jacket.

Cold can be terrible,

Sanity no longer sensible,

For I smile to the most noble,

But my hands shake and my feet terrible,

Forgetting my sweater will no longer be possible.

When it’s cold, the journey becomes longer,

The weak never get stronger,

Traffic become heavy and fleet only longer,

The cold streams to the liver,

Many visits one makes to the doctor.

Tomorrow I have a plan,

I will not freeze and shine,

I want to be stern,

Heavy clothes will cover my skin,

I will still be great, my skin is tone.

Cold isn’t fun,

I fear for the nun,

Who is always alone,

Like a deserted baboon,

To sense the start of July, I hate the month of June.

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Caroline W. Nderitu

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