Springtimes

It was the springtime cure of my foot accident.
Well, not exactly that massively fun.
I was limpfully walking, with my questionables.

It had been an unexpected, mild springtime
all of that same oddballish winter and then
it was bone-cold on April Fools, so that
had I spoken any poetical words,
they would have gloriously become
(from spew polyglot droplet’s mist)
snow, then melted in translation.

May springtime season most surprised me.
First, it had crept upon and all of the sudden
I had jerked and stumbled, laughing
with a gigg an ul.
I was twice happy.

Please, anyone, from now on (until forever),
do not shut up any springtime of me.

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