Heat Everywhere

'Tis a hot day I must say, From the Sun's ray, To the farm's hay, We must lay, Lay on the beach? I beseech And I preach, That my day is indeed a hot day, And the sufferings do we obey, This is no longer May! I call for a cold day, And so a holiday, In the winter sky's gray, So that we may sway In the snow's way. Along the display of the snow, Perhaps comes a frigid blow, Or a raven's shadow. Then outside the window, Why must one not play, If surely he will stay And not delay? Again shall I address— During the blooming flowers' process, Many will express Their graceful bless, I guess it is not a distress, But rather a real success. And however much they caress Their beloved one's shiny hair Beside the red dress, Hopefully 'twill not turn into a mess, Just as the Sun shines in your face. Not long till they experience their werifesteria, They'll see the leaves fall out in front of Celestia, She'll love them and their colour, not feeling dysphoria, When the night calls, so does her astrologia. That specific leaf falls, And they knoweth not that she be a raconteur, The depth of the woods and its mists, Mist of the colds perhaps never experienced Earth without shades quiet. The slightest timbre of the scene, Caused many to be evergreen... Again I must say— 'Tis indeed a hot day! More than it, beneath it a way, Set for eternity, and not display.