Creative Writing

Head-Cold

My nose, a dripping tap

Throat embalmed with phlegm

Head hot sticky like a child’s fingers jabbing my brain

Body encased in a sea of blankets

Distant radio buzz

Weight drowning and anchoring me

Diving deeper into my humid cave

Eyelids falling shut

My parents — both together then — piled together on the couch,

Mum, brushing away my scattered pens,

Petting my hair and checking my temperature again,

Dad spooning me banana medicine, hands leathery against my forehead.

My body whines but I have Dr. Teddy and I didn’t have to see Mr. Jeffrey today.

I open my eyes and it’s snowing again,

Just like that first winter,

And for a moment

My vision clears,

Brain no longer having to strain,

And my train of thought has finally steered onto the right lane.

I turn off the radio and allow myself to sleep,

Devoid of need for leaping sheep

And I feel my parent’s warmth once more.


Like Concrete on Facebook to stay up to date


07/11/2018

About Author

Rose Ramsden



Notice: Trying to access array offset on value of type null in /home/wp_35pmrq/concrete-online.co.uk/wp-content/themes/citynews/tpl/tpl-related-posts.php on line 11

Notice: Trying to access array offset on value of type null in /home/wp_35pmrq/concrete-online.co.uk/wp-content/themes/citynews/tpl/tpl-related-posts.php on line 26
Calendar
August 2021
M T W T F S S
 1
2345678
9101112131415
16171819202122
23242526272829
3031  
Latest Comments
About Us

The University of East Anglia’s official student newspaper. Concrete is in print and online.

If you would like to get in touch, email the Editor on Concrete.Editor@uea.ac.uk. Follow us at @ConcreteUEA.