Temporary misery poem.

TEMPORARY MISERY

Gray day looming.
Part of the cool gray family,
leaning toward blue.
Too much time to think
unproductive thoughts.
Twenty-four hour virus
distorts and threatens.
Indistinct images interlace
in and out of fevered sleep.
I am thirsty, but water tastes wrong.
Maybe I’m in Mexico.
And I am, as I drift into clownish
parades, offering dry sticky candy.
Rushing streams are not obtained.
Coolness to bathe away the heightening
fire that gives me no rest.
Twenty four hours seems an eternity
to lie inside the gray.
Warm covers and tasteless nourishment
empower this wretched state.
But it will be over soon.
I will drink delicious water
and my appetite will be fulfilled.
But not for those in Tsunami.
God, give them restoration.