Sunday, 4 May 2014

Mr. Bee

A garden at a close quarter
It sends us into a deep torpor
Come hither to feel so light
And float, when an aroma bites
Flit from flower to flower
Buzzing in quest for nector
Why do you flap wings?
To sense the flower in full swing
Violets and yellow shimmer in thy eyes
Bend to welcome thee and no surprise
Waggle dance drives us into a trance
That we don’t want to miss any chance
No wonder, we see you change often
All flowers nev’r wither, when they ‘re untrodden.

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