Train trip to Nottingham for a meeting
I walked by the canal to the office
Close to the castle where, maybe, fighting
Back in medieval times had taken place
But all day long I've had to wipe my face
With just about anything I could find
These germs I must have picked up on the bus
Or plane, or foreign bed; my nose is kind
Of sore, kind of red raw. As the train wound
Its way along the track, I kept popping
Into the small toilet to blow my nose
And take out piles of tissue by the pound
Throughout the meeting, too, I was wiping
My nose. Who knows? Friday, I might feel worse
Thur 14 Oct
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