A sudden grip around the breath, A shadowed tightness stealing depth, A silent force within the chest, Where gentle airways find no rest.
In bronchioles, so soft and small, A war begins that holds us all. Muscles seize, constrict, confine, And thin threads of breath entwine.
Asthma’s call, its whispered plea, Allergen, dust, or exercise free. COPD, with chronic hold, Turns every breath to something bold.
Infections march like phantom tides, With wheezes riding breath’s divides. And allergies can swiftly light, This sudden, fierce internal fight.
Smoke and fumes drift thick and slow, Strangling pathways, air won’t flow. In moments swift, the lungs resist, A coughing echo from the mist.
Bronchodilators, there they stand, To ease the grip with healing hands. Inflamed, constrained, the airways yearn, For breath released and ease returned.
So here’s to breath, both deep and free, A precious pulse of life’s decree. In every gasp, each whispered sigh, May airways clear, and muscles lie.
