The Three Musketeers

The three of them have come back
 like firefighters armed and with
extraordinary force and new 
chiseled weapons.

 The first one crawls on me 
drives me to make incessant 
 “ahem” sounds both in the high octaves 
and the lowest bass.

The next encloses me in a tight net
 a kind of suffocation occurs,
 I try to squeeze, my chest blows
like the bellows.

The third one enforces a dizziness
 I wriggle, curl and shove myself 
into a blanket unable to tolerate 
the cold.

The fighters keep me under control 
each year during this month
 throwing me out of gear.  Love 
 to name the annual visitors in order.

cough, wheeze and fever
who never fail to grapple me 
every year right from the age
of five.