The Bee
+3Sitting on the veranda,
Leaning on my chair,
Sipping hot tea,
My sight caught a small bee,
Passing through the air.
It flapped its wings,
And rested on the floor,
Spared a glance with me,
Looking at my dynamic tea,
Which I thought that I would easily ignore.
I stood there waiting,
And watching the sky,
Wondering what it ought to do,
Would it sting my eye,
Or reposefully set out for the blue.
But neither it did,
And stuck to the floor,
And said,
“This is a place,
with lot of space,
Indeed I would like to explore”
And from this day,
There was neither brightness nor gay,
For the bees stopped wandering near the flowers,
The flowers dried,
And tragically died,
Despite having drops of sunray.
They never complained,
For whatever we gained,
Making use of their innocent emotions,
Then they freezed,
Without a word said,
That they were all dead,
Neither flowers nor trees,
And their wonderful breeze,
This is how the human life did cease.
This poem was written/submitted by Trivarna.
