Honey Bee's Demise.
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A beautiful bee he was.
He lay for a day on my table, stillness
Personified. - eyes seemed alive, arms
Curled furily tight, perhaps as his will
At the end was for warmth. There was no harm
More could be done to this bee. Wings held high
And gossamer fine, his short life was done.
He went as he came, unsung, but his goodbye
Was with dignity. Being himself, come
The end, with work now achieved as worthwhile,
He did the best thing and finished with style.
A beautiful bee he was.
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