The Daffodil and the Bee

by Stephen Watson

She, who kissed with such frenzied intensity
Open mouthed, that visiting bee which drank
Sweet nectar from the bowels of her soul.
And left her sated, loved, drained;

And used.

She, who for a moment radiated golden brilliance;
With the power of a thousand suns, wilted;
Her light faded in the drab decay of a February day.

That bee departed, for another fair flower;
To do as only bees do.

10-Feb-2013

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Comments on this Poem

Why am i the flower , not the bee?
Flitting merrily from tree to tree..
Sipping and tasting and having my fill
Jumping to another as and when i will...
Why am i the flower holding on the bee
That only wishes to be merry, carefree?
That moves on without a second's glance..
while the flower is still held in a trance...
and wants to make more nectar for her lover, the bee.
But where is he?
Alas, sipping nectar from her rival Lily...

Aaliyah
28-May-2013 07:09 AM

lovely!

Aaliyah
28-May-2013 06:57 AM