In the past few days, my parents and one of my younger brothers have been bedridden with the flu. Inspired by the situation, I decided to write this poem. I hope that someone may find it enjoyable.


In the clutches of the flu, they lay,
Bound by fever’s relentless sway,
Invisible chains of fatigue’s embrace,
A struggle within, a trying space.

The room shrouded in shadows’ art,
As they lie still, weakened heart,
Their body’s whispers, coughs, and sighs,
In the quiet night, under moonlit skies.

A symphony of sniffles and sneezes,
Invisible foes within, spreading diseases,
A chorus of chills, fever’s fiery hue,
An unwelcome guest, as the days accrue.

Invisible warriors, antibodies so bold,
In their bloodstream, a story unfolds,
Defenders of health, they rise and stand,
Seeking to restore wellness, as they planned.

The bedside table’s dim-lit glow,
Casting light on their struggle, both high and low,
The pages of books offer a brief reprieve,
Through illness and weakness, they still believe.

Murmurs of comfort, a cup of warm tea,
The rhythm of healing, a soothing decree,
In the grasp of the flu, they persevere,
With strength and resolve, the illness they’ll clear.

In the clutches of the flu, they fight,
With resilience and hope, they’ll see the light,
Knowing that soon, this battle will fade,
And they’ll emerge stronger, in health’s serenade.

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