A cough begins, so light and small, A sniffle, a sneeze, no harm at all. But days go by, and something's wrong, The nights grow restless, the cough grows strong.
A fever rises, but not too high, The cough keeps coming, you wonder why. Then suddenly, the air feels tight, A gasping breath in the dead of night.
The whooping sound, it fills the air, A child gasps, in desperate prayer. Each coughing fit, a painful fight, That steals the breath, and dims the light.
For weeks it lasts, relentless strain, Each cough brings tears, exhaustion, pain. A battle waged, a desperate plea, For healing breath, for sweet relief.
It spreads like whispers in the breeze, Through droplets caught in every sneeze. A silent foe that finds its way, To infants who can’t run away.
But hope is near, a shield we trust, In vaccines strong, protect we must. For DPT guards the young and frail, And helps to keep this foe curtailed.
So listen close, to that small sound, And take the steps to keep it bound. With care, with medicine, and time, Whooping cough will end its climb.
