Poetry | Stories | Photography
The Bee and the Rose
The Bee buzzes in the warm sun,
many flowers are blooming.
The Bumblebee Sun feels Springy,
longing to feel the roses.
Beautiful pink blooms are many,
a special one is beckoning.
Diving into pink, bum to the heavens,
rubbing wildly within the petals.
Bursting with the desire to be lazy,
sleeping within the soft pink.
Rose petals turn a brown-yellow colour as the roses die on their stems.
A bee aims at your buns.
The sky threatens to shine a bit of sun on your skin.
A fly tries to taste your drink.
The banana chair grumbles underneath your weight.
You relax for a bit. The bee laughs.
The flower asked a bee, “When will the world end?” The bee looked dumbfounded, then buzzed away.
Perplexed, the flower asked a spider: there was only silence.
Then a cat sniffed at her petals. She asked the cat the same question. It seemed to prevaricate any response, then pissed on her stem.
C & K 