Summer is coming.

I am not like others, when the sap of spring rises.
I'm not glad to see the cold months wane and end.
As green shoots sprout and new grass lengthens.
I dread the enduring torment summer will send.

I shut up all my windows, plan long days inside,
With food and drink fill up my cupboards
Go out only when I must, and hide.
from the foe, when ghastly summer buds.

What's your problem? Friends ask derisory
When summer invitations I refuse.
Come with us, they say,  have fun and party
I say I've work to do or some other ruse.

Wild Winter storms,  I can laugh them off,
Winds and Snow and Ice, fuss me not at all,
Soft petals of flowers opening, do not scoff
are my nemesis the source of my downfall.

For when they open they assail my eyes,
Tears run, blocked nose, unbearable itches.
Eyes, and throat, even my skin, no lies,
Sneezes, into misery my life pitches.

It's only hayfever they tell me.
'Only!' I'd rather have a bout of flu,
which when the are brought low by,
Well, then they hibernate too.

So I'll see you when summers over,
And fresh autumn winds do blow
When the air is full of pollen, no longer
And I can breath free of woe.

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