The leaves on trees tease the bees,
Who fly forever for fancy of flowers,
Thirsting for the nectar nesting in these,
The finest spring blossoms.
The sun’s flares feed the favored foliage,
Only a periodic patch of light pierces through,
But fellow leaves shield others from growth, not carnage,
So only some can grow spring blossoms.
The wind winds through the branches,
Whispering a wistful tune,
It pushes pretty petals to do dying dances,
Thus they pass, the spring blossoms.
YOU ARE READING
Poetry Collection: Atty Awards 2012
PoesíaA collection of poems that will (hopefully) make you think.
