Chronic pulmonary disease is profound..

My bedroom has been my sanctuary,
within these walls my mood is high.
From another room I hear her crying,
she worries some day soon she will die.

How can one room be so comforting
while the other one bring such sorrow?
She believes her life is almost over,
I pray she will still be here tomorrow.

In my room I'm lost in classical music,
but always I'm listening for any sound.
From the other room her breathing labors,
chronic pulmonary disease is so profound.

At the slightest sound I leave my room
and rush to make sure she's all right.
She seems to do better during the day,
but breathing is most difficult at night.

One day her room will be deadly silent
and from my room there will be tears.
She will be leaving me a fine legacy
which I will hold in my heart for years.