Cacophonic Crescendo

It is the influenza season, we are being told,
Huffing and puffing as our lives so painfully unfold,
Everyone is sneezing and coughing up a symphony,
Composed by bacteria and viruses, such a cacophony,
Sometimes when I am alone, it is a solo toccata,
When with a friend a duet may change into cantata,
When in a public place like the subway or the bus,
A chorus may be present a nocturne or a heavy mass,
In school the kids in class thirty or more all in concert,
Resounding their talents in rhapsody, etude and motet,
I do not mind the cacophony, crescendo I shall not condemn,
As long as none of this will be announcing my requiem,