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Croup-y Groupies

  
I have croup-y groupies,
They follow me around.
Everywhere I go
I hear their breathless raspy sound.

It carries down the stairs,
Across their monitors at night.
It catches in my throat,
Makes my chest feel tight.

I see their red hot faces,
Hear their bleating cries;
Think of all the mothers,
Nursing under different skies.

And I think in wonder,
How lucky it is for me;
That this state of snotty sleeplessness
Is (I hope) temporary.

I wonder how those others,
Mothers just like me,
Carry their fear each day
When sickness follows endlessly.

I have croup-y groupies,
They follow me around.
And for that I am grateful,
For that I kiss the ground.

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