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Spring

The grass has never been green,

It shows a nice scene.

Blows a dusty breeze,

That makes you sneezes.

A bright sun,

Means to have some fun.

It shines bright,

To make the country full of light.

Flowers blossom everywhere,

Grow without a care.

How rare,

It just wants to make you stare,

The weather is usually strange,

It's always on the change.

It could be warm,

But it might end up as a storm.

By Lucinda Melrose

Created: 2014

Edited and Published: 2019