For Summer

You make my hands boil

as they touch the steering wheel.

My face looks like I’ve bathed in oil,

Your army of wasps have attacked me with great zeal.

When will your great sister Winter come,

To save us from your torture?

The cold will come and you’ll go numb

I will applaud for your departure.

______________________________________________________________________________

Thanks for reading…can you tell how I feel about summer?

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