Oh pretty primavera,
in petaled petticoats of frills,
In beribboned bonnets
of green blade & floral hills,
You, my fickle dame,
when smiling, bring soft rain,
Then while resting
upon laurels, bring allergic pain.
You pollinate the
eyes with a nasty shade of red,
And just as we´re
dancing, you get inside the head,
Skin you daub &
stipple, in wheals & bumpy itches,
Sending in mosquitoes,
those hard hearted bitches.
Oh pretty primavera,
what a fickle friend you are,
You´d be really perfect,
if you´d only never mar,
Stings are not needed,
nor wanted, is the sneeze,
Otherwise my dear,
you´re quite the perfumed breeze.
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