Here we have sweet oranges in winter
Instead of snowflakes and frozen lakes
Tall palm trees that glisten in the sun
Instead of icicles and blanketing gray
Billowing clouds that come to stay
Your white winters are our green springs
Struggling to survive on chilly nights
That rise to blooming afternoons
While you descend to darker depths
But woe come summer here
When the heat evaporates our souls
And we are caught between bliss
And despair praying for rain
To plump the oranges up again
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