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Morning Spells of a Worker Bee

Around three AM, he is awake Uphill, upon a solitaire game Loving the heat of his sweat The distance whispers of his honey queen The nearness of the morning howls The mistakes and lazy gaze at the paining finger The smiling mirror in his fuming eyes The smiling lips in his coupled mirrors The worker bee is dividing his blood One for his sweat and other for the sweet love

Copyright © | Year Posted 2020




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Book: Shattered Sighs