Dreams Of Air

I wish I had a penny
for every time I sneezed.
I wish I had a nickle for
every time I wheezed.
I wish I had a dime
for every time I coughed.
I'd be in the money
and I'd be taken off
all these damn inhalers
and pills that help me breathe.
But wait, these are just
an asthmatic's dreams
that never seems to bequeath
a fortune, a future
where air will come with ease.
I'm tired out from all of it.
I hate this asthma disease.

poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!