I have a case of asthma
Which makes me gasp and wheeze;
I grow a little worse each day
From pollen in the breeze.
And so my granddaughter , three years old,
Is busy looking for
The cat she thinks I hid somewhere
Before she came in the door.
She thinks her grandma’s back can growl
And would have “called the doctor”
If I had not been near the phone
And so that I could stop her.
I know she doesn’t understand
And hope she won’t find out
Why Grandma makes a racket
When she breathes in and out.
I hope she never feels this way—
For victims it’s not funny—
And I sure hope asthma never hits
My precious little Honey.
Read more articles, stories and poems by Betty Killebrew at: www.trovemagazine.com