Springtime breezes eases flowers
To bend and sway,
Releasing pollen to fly
Scent dust lifting drifting over
All things in play,
Allergies making her cry.

So She says.

Nighttime she roams to home again
She’s still crying,
Shut windows to the outside,
Yellow pollen is on the pane
Like a staining,
Tinted blur that will not hide.

She’s better, so she says.