Poetry, an attempt at expansion.

An attempt at a hymn?

Blinding sun pokes through

Fresh green leaves anew;

Watch the orange red

behind my lids instead.

Lying soft on green,

from the world, unseen,

I feel but do not see

my buzzing honey bee.

There he is, so soft a sound

That first had not reached my ear.

Then he spoke, and so I woke

and listened as my bee drew near.

"Hello miss, alone again?

Best fly off, fly on my friend."

"I cannot fly, my dearest bee, 

there are no wings on me you see."

"Oh you have wings, of that I'm sure;

why don't the garden, we explore?"

"Oh silly bee, you cannot see?

There never were no wings on me."

And so he settled by my side:

"Then at least, lets go and hide".

We spoke of things, we laughed, we wept

And in the night, at last we slept,

And when the morning rain was gone,

I, the butterfly, flew on.

"Higher than on" said my bee,

"Come along".