The first green leaf sprouts

Springtime’s begun, no doubt

From branch of a tree it starts small but surely

Into a strong oak it will sprout

The whistle of birds can be heard

They sing without speaking a word

Serenades so sweet which no trumpet can compete

The beauty of nature averred

Unavoidable allergies ail.

All through the air, pollen sails

Harsh it may be, doctors agree

That without them your immune system has failed.

There are only four seasons in one year

All too soon the next one appears

Each one exciting and surely inviting

Many more memories to hold dear.