a slight honey breeze whips through the air, swaying the flowers not yet in full bloom;
clouds block out the sun that doesn't yet dare, causing the sky to be filled with gloom;
yet sycamore trees sway within each passing day,
for everyone knows that summer is almost here to stay;
but the wind keeps up its blows, postponing avid dreams,
with our want of cool mountain springs, making us want all these things;
is it must spring cause our heart to mend, when all we want is summer break?
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