They say you get a second wind,
                 maybe a third,

               if you're lucky.

I'm on my fourth—
        at least—

  because of her.

Not just physically,
     but everywhere.

In muscles I'd forgotten,
   laughter I misplaced,
   dreams I left unfinished,

   now pulling me forward
   with a strength I didn't know I still had.

Every time I think I've reached my limit,
      she smiles,
      touches my hand,
      says something…

      that sparks the fire again.

And suddenly I'm awake,
                 alive,
        moving forward—

        like stopping isn't even an option.

She's not just a spark—
      she’s the fire itself,
      burning steady,
      constant,

      lighting paths I didn’t know existed.

Fourth wind?

Maybe fifth.

I've lost count—

But as long as she's beside me,
      I'll keep breathing deep,

 ready for whatever comes next.