Seasons Poem by Maryida Horn

Seasons



Be ye thankful for the seasons;
For each season there is a reason.
It is cold to kill ye germs;
When it's hot germs squirm.
Some are thankful for the cool;
Those who aren't must be fools.
I'd like to appreciate all seasons;
But scorching hot is out of reason.

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Maryida Horn

Maryida Horn

Chicago, Illinois, USA
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