09-01-2014, 10:30 PM
The petals that in summer charmed the bees,
and drew them salsa dancing from their hive,
still hang, but like a patient who alive
lives only as a hostel for disease,
unconscious, left too weak to send his pleas
of barter up to God, they won’t survive.
They’ll bend at last to take the autumn dive;
they’ll droop and sag to snag the harvest breeze.
That’s something, isn’t it? The way they fade,
and whither up as bug food, then as dust?
I only smile at them cause of you:
because I know one day, you’ll be afraid…
you’ll notice that you also wilt, and just
how short the time till you are bug food too.
and drew them salsa dancing from their hive,
still hang, but like a patient who alive
lives only as a hostel for disease,
unconscious, left too weak to send his pleas
of barter up to God, they won’t survive.
They’ll bend at last to take the autumn dive;
they’ll droop and sag to snag the harvest breeze.
That’s something, isn’t it? The way they fade,
and whither up as bug food, then as dust?
I only smile at them cause of you:
because I know one day, you’ll be afraid…
you’ll notice that you also wilt, and just
how short the time till you are bug food too.