Mutualism Lost Its Grip

Roses have bloomed colorful, wearing A symphony of red, white, and pink. Gardenia and Jasmine pose in white, Butterflies are fluttering in delight. Insects are pollinating flowering trees Devouring nectar, a fee for the service. Apple flowers, pretty in pink and white. Purple peach flowers, an enchanting sight. The fig trees nearby have flowers too Greenish blossoms hidden from view The tiny buds, look like fruits indeed! In fact, they're inverted flowers within. Flowers' aroma attracts female wasp Eager to lay eggs, as romance begins Inside the Syconium of a male flower. A mutualism yearning for symbiosis. Baby wasps will soon mature The siblings will mate with each other Wingless males will die, females will fly In a hurry with the pollen they carry Searching new male flowers to breed. Female flowers exude a special scent Tricking the wasp to shimmy in the stem, A one way street to death sentence. Female flowers pollinate, don't reciprocate No place for the wasp to lay its eggs. Having lost its wings, it dies for a cause The flowers in time digest the dead wasp And grow into a ripened fruit we call fig. Just this one time, mutualism lost its grip.