The Springtime Blues

In spring, when flowers bloom and skies are blue,

Allergies strike and make one feel anew,

A runny nose, itchy eyes, a cough so loud,

A prisoner to the sneezes, one is bound.

The village doctor, with a wise and serious air,

Prescribes a potion, with a promise to repair,

But the remedy, it brings but fleeting peace,

And the symptoms return with a sneeze's release.

A journey to the city, in search of a cure,

Visits many specialists, but none can ensure,

That springtime allergies, will no longer tease,

And bring the sufferer, the comfort he does please.

In his room, he ponders and thinks with a frown,

Of the injustice, of this affliction so renowned,

He curses the flowers, the skies so bright and blue,

And vows to find a cure, before the season is through.

But as the days go by, he comes to realise,

That allergies, like life, have no easy guise,

And so he learns to live, with a smile and a sneeze,

Embracing springtime, with all its joys and its tease.