oh the youthful exuberance
of a mildly sore throat and
a fledgling cold sore
at midterm time
a warm fluffy excuse
not to say superfluous words
or abuse fingers with keyboards and
glaring screens but
to lie in bed with
Vicks and Carmex and steamy tea
sipping the chilly autumn breeze
slowly swallowing lullabies
and reckless meteor dreams
when the mature ones are still
languishing awake
and i and the night are young