What do you want?
You ask me what do you want?
I stare I can not believe you need to ask,
you watch me gasp for breath and watch my
children play and a tear forms in my eye.
Yet you asked "What do you want?"
I want to run and play tag with my kids before
they grow to old and no longer have time for me.
I want to be able to play hide and seek, to swim,
to laugh, to talk, without gasping to breath.
I want to walk with my children around the block.
I want to hold a conversation without losing my breath.
I want to wake up and inhale natures prefumes deeply,
without daggers digging into my lungs.
I want to take a deep breath without feeling the
fires boil within my lungs
I want the breath to clean my home,
I want to be able to go to the beach,
hike in the woods, follow a mountain trail.
I want to be able to take care of my loved ones,
not be tended to.
I want to live not merely exist