Thrilled By The Cold Poem by Naveed Akram

I have thrilled, past was present, we were stock-still,
Stoic people were like us, rather longer in health;
But we were still like the ice in stillness,
Stiffly sticking to the air, of bad warmth.
I have mounted on a mountainous mule,
A mule of worth, such a donkey for me,
This trail leads south where the river arrives,
We cross a bridge too well, we are this mountain.

I am losing more men, and we are now again still,
Stigmatized by the cold, and the flu had arrived.
My mighty river so bold, was against me for a long time,
Rivers attached to my writing were indeed mighty.
Bad warmth was the ritualistic belief,
A little cold does no good, I am not thrilled!