Warm spring day, ruined by bouquet.
Sun, a missed display, weepy eyes in disarray.
Picnic packed, fine buffet, drowsy head left to sway.
With running nose, a double play.
Fresh grass pathway, coughing sneezed naiveté,
To doctor shuffling dossier, sternly orders: Hit the hay!
Drip free dreams of the faraway, easy enjoyment of Nature’s soiree,
Lofting through Her field day, nasty symptoms giving way.
Then, it is the break of day, wheezy sniffles stay,
Sadly, this is to say, allergy season’s underway.
BTW: It is National Poetry Month...
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