Spring for You is not Spring for Me
You Revel in the scents of Flowers, while I Sneeze
You raise your naked Face to the lengthened Light of the Sun, while I Hide beneath a coating of SPF 100
You point out the Beauty and Rebirth of every new Leaf and Bud, while I wallow in the Pain of a thousand pollen Needles embedded in my Sinuses
Spring for you is Not spring for me
I clutch my Wheezing chest and squeeze tight my Watering eyes
Wake me when Winter is come
National Poetry Writing Month is nearly at at end. To celebrate it, try your hand at some verse.
10 thoughts on “Wake Me When It’s Over”
Oh, I feel for you, Jill. I’m fortunate not to suffer with allergies, but two of my brothers are tortured by them. Nice poem though. 🙂
Thanks! Lucky you! 🙂
when one season means so different for two people. Nice!
thank you 🙂
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