Ode to My A/C (Grecian Urns Have Nothing on You)!

The sun scorches my flesh morning to night,
The heat drains me of my liquid reserves.
Crankiness supplements my sweaty plight,
As my body struggles to cool my curves.

But you, oh Freon-ed one, send gusty breeze,
Relieving my body and soul of torment,
Delivering an ecstasy of freeze,
To cover me with icy adornment.

Your gentle whir is a welcoming tune,
Drawing me near your blissful emissions.
You labor diligently throughout June,
Twenty-four-seven, without omission.
Ah my zephyr of merciful hoarfrost,
May your glacial winds that soothe ne'er be lost!